Brilliance
by Viridian Magpie
Summary: How could a grieving, angry and upset 21-year-old boy come and leave Hogwarts' ground undetected AND kill a professor in cold blood in-between? (Not OoP canon)
1. Chapter One

Brilliance  
  
By Viridian Magpie  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine, Rowling's. Don't sue!  
  
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AN: Written before the release of HP5, thus AU, not OoP canon and, of course, no OoP spoilers  
  
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Years, even decades, later I would always remember that day. It was one of *those* days, you know; the kind that start out like any other and you'd never guess that they could in any way be special but they are just the same. There were no heralding angels coming down from up high or flocks of Fwoopers doing some kind of crazy mating dance on your breakfast table. It was indeed so normal that you could almost say it was boring. Almost. Luckily, life at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is anything but that. Tuesday morning it was, I recall it clearly, we were just having brekkie at the Gryffindor table. Well, trying anyway. None of us had slept well the night before. Peter kept staring straight ahead, lost in his own little world. James stared at me and I stared at my porridge. Suddenly I had that crazy, I mean, really crazy and hilarious thought. It's just popped into my head and I burst out laughing. They always do that, popping into my head, that is. At the most inappropriate times, too. Like, on the funeral of my great-aunt Hillary. When the priest said something about ash, it just overcame me. My great-aunt had been a heavy smoker, you know, and I had that ridiculous picture of her dressed up as a giant cigarette in my mind.  
  
I've never seen my Dad so angry and upset, before or afterwards.  
  
Anyhow, I didn't tell James why I laughed. He might not have understood it at that point. Years later I told him and he was laughing his head off then but I didn't tell him about my Mum's little speech on that day. First, he didn't have a sister, secondly, it wasn't an 'appropriate' time (I learned that lesson well), and thirdly my sister was nearby. But while my sister is quite a ridiculous creature the whole thing wasn't about her alone.  
  
Summer holidays before I went to Hoggywarts, my mother was talking to my sister Nelle about that monthly thing girls where going through. I was bored at that time so I listened, as well. My sister wasn't too happy, but I didn't care and Mum's got that thing about boys and girls being equal and she's also quite easy going when it comes to some of *that* stuff, you know. Anyroad, so she said to Nelle she shouldn't worry that she and her dorm-mates all had their menstruation at the same time - my sister's two years older than me and she's one of these girls who blossomed later than others, or so my Dad once tried to soothe her when she came home after her second year, crying 'cause one of that year's Slytherins, Narcissa Something, made fun of her because of her flat chest. That cow looked like she was carrying around Bongos when I saw her the first time on the train to school. She was bloody proud of it, too. So, they had *that* talk when my sister was already fourteen.  
  
Er, yeah, as I was saying, Mum was talking to Nelle and she started to ramble - she says she doesn't but she does, she's always getting carried away when the conversation turns to things that can be remotely described as feministic stuff. You should have seen Nelle's face as Mum babbled on about how the women of African tribes all get their "monthly harass" at the same time, the full moon and that it was because of all that stress and environmental problems that modern civilisation brings with it that the women of the sophisticated world get it at different times. Those were roughly her words, anyway.  
  
So, that was the reason why I snorted into my porridge that morning. Well almost. It was actually the parallel I drew. The three of us, James and Peter and me, we were sharing a dorm with another boy. His name's Remus, kinda shy character, but a wicked sense of humour. I think he would have understood why I was laughing but he wasn't there that morning. On the other hand he's always touchy about certain things, has been at that point anyway, I think he still is, 'though he pretends he isn't.  
  
Anyway, the thing he's so sensitive about has also been the cause of my porridge accident and the reason that he wasn't there that morning and that we were all looking so tired. Remus is a werewolf, you see, simple as that. He's been in that plight - actually a stupid way to refer to it but the other alternative, the word that he told us Madam Pomfrey always used, is even sillier. I don't mean 'indisposition' - McGonagall always said that "Mr. Lupin's indisposed." - but 'condition'. He thinks it makes it sound like he was pregnant, and it does. So, - I like the word 'so', somehow, at least I use it all the time, anyway - Remus had been bitten when he was still really young. Five or six, I think. He and his family had been able to keep it secret for quite some time. We had only found out three months before; he didn't tell us anything or hinted or something, we found out on our own, through hard work, attention to detail and a little luck - which equals long ours in the library, a listing of his supposed ill and dead relatives (he supposedly had three dead Grandmothers! Peter jokingly wondered when his excuse would include a fatally wounded son.), and actually doing Astronomy homework (drawing a lunar chart).  
  
Okay, about that parallel, get this: there's this boy and he has a problem that occurs once a month - he's also quite snappy around that time and, of course, really tired -, this always occurs around the full moon, and just as the boys in his dorm show the first sign of puberty, they get tired and snappy at that time, too - naturally, puberty isn't the reason for it but still, I thought it was kinda funny. Not that any of us look or behave like a girl, we're *guys*, you know, but anyway, it was a hilarious thought.  
  
Well, like I said we were really tired, 'cause we'd been up all night in sympathy with Remus. Okay, mostly because we were worried. James had "organised" a book from the restricted section of the Hogwarts library which had practically every little titbit of information on werewolf transformation that exists. It also had pictures. Looked pretty gruesome, too. We didn't show it to Remus or Peter. The former for obvious reasons and Peter had always had sort of a weak stomach. Though, I have to state that we weren't idle during this night, or before, either. We'd been looking through countless books for a way to help our friend. Only, as Remus constantly remarked, there wasn't anything we could do. It left us pretty depressed. And on this morning, the third of its kind we weren't any closer to finding something and we didn't feel any better, either.  
  
So, as I've mentioned before, we were sitting at brekkie (Remus had strictly forbidden us to go to the hospital wing to visit him.), looking all tired and almost sleeping in our porridge, or in Peter's case, spoon- feeding it to his left ear, when suddenly - BANG! - Dots, the labrador of our DADA teacher, bounds through the hall, heading straight to Snape (the hook-nosed git), and knocking him from his seat. From where we sat we couldn't see what he did to the slime ball but there was a lot of growling and barking and girlish screaming. While we really were having a blast it also was kinda strange. Dots' usually the most harmless and philanthropic (well, guess! I know big words!) dog you could find, and everyone started wondering what had happened to make him suddenly attack a pupil - he didn't really hurt Snape, just scared him - which is actually a pity, if you think about it. Well, we were wondering, as well, swapping ideas. That's when Peter made that absolutely brilliant remark: Snape wasn't *human*! Alright, you might say, he certainly looks more like a vampire than a human being and thus a lot of people probably already had that notion before, but the thing that was making that statement so brilliant was the timing. Dots would never attack a *human* but he's got no problem with biting *animals*. *Werewolves* always attack *humans* but they've got no problem with *animals*! As I had that realisation I could have kissed that boy - Peter, not Snape - but I'm a guy so I didn't. Instead I called him a genius and dragged him and James away from the Great Hall and into a deserted classroom.  
  
James was complaining the whole way 'cause he hadn't had time to grab his books and we were surely going to be late for Transfiguration and Peter just looked kinda bewildered - no one had ever called him a genius, which, I thought at that point, was actual quite a tragedy. He wasn't really stupid. I hadn't always felt like that; at first I didn't really like him. Incidentally we - that's James and me - thought he looked like someone who'd rat on you, so when we had something planned we didn't tell him. We didn't tell Remus, either, yet. He had this goody-two-shoes aura which only saints or extremely cunning devils had about them but since we couldn't tell what he was we didn't include him, - and, as I remarked at some point, he didn't always tell us where he went, either. Actually he never shared much about himself or his family, except when one of them was going to snuff it and he had to leave. So, as I was saying, I couldn't stand Peter. Not only did he look like the telltale type but he often didn't seem to comprehend what was going on. Let me give you an example.  
  
Thursday after school was the time when the Gryffindor Quidditch team held their weekly practise. Me and James were Quidditch maniacs, I mean, we were totally loony about the sport. Each Saturday, for example, we sprawled on my bed, the curtains drawn, a sound proof charm around the bed, listening to WBC Sports on James' (illegal) radio for hours on end. No one knew what we were doing and there were some nasty rumours flying around in the upper years, and sometimes they even alluded to some of it in front of us. James didn't get it (at first) and I pretended I didn't either, which had them in stitches for some reason. Later, when we were older we'd let Remus and Peter listen, too, when they wanted, and when James and Lily got together most of the rumours stopped - and others arose.  
  
So, one Thursday in November, I went down to the Quidditch field, alone this time 'cause James was in detention for calling Snape a bastard (in front of McGonagall - we hadn't noticed she was standing right behind us). Anyroad, I was slowly shuffling down the hall - practise wouldn't start for another ten minutes or so, and I didn't want to leave the warmth (well it was warmer than outside) of Hogwarts castle before it commenced - when Peter almost ran into me. Peter was always in a hurry - well, maybe not really in a hurry but he was quite hyper and every time he went anywhere he scurried. We kept joking that he'd have a asystole or something one of these days - James' dad was a doctor and, like father, like son, he kept sprouting off those really weird Greek and Latin words for all those diseases which I never quite can remember.  
  
"S-Sirius," the boy in question squeaked, "where are you g-going?" I could have asked him the same but his destination was as obvious as mine. "Outside. Severus Snape jumped out of the dungeon window three minutes ago and I'm hurrying to catch him." He blinked. "Oh." I wasn't really sure if he was stupid enough to believe what I had said or if he was hurt at my response. I can be pretty mean and sarcastic, even towards my friends, and he was still sort of a stranger at that point. I couldn't really be bothered to care about his feelings, however, and wordlessly continued down the hall.  
  
Peter's actually not stupid. He's just no genius with languages. He's not really British, actually. Three or four years before he came to Hogwarts his mother and he moved from France to good ol' England. Back at home his father had got killed and his mother couldn't bear to stay in the house or even in the country any longer. So she and Peter moved in with Mrs. Pettigrew's brother who lived in Manchester. They home-schooled Peter for a while, to teach him enough English to get around, and then sent him to a Muggle primary school. Naturally the kids there started picking on him because of his strange accent. And he, being the shy guy that he was, of course, didn't say 'Back off, you bloody morons' but instead developed a stutter. Or so he once told us. If you ask me, he got that stutter from when his dad died, since he doesn't have an accent now, so it couldn't have been *that* bad.  
  
All right, so we were standing in this deserted classroom, and the guys just kept looking at me as if I'd totally snapped or something. So, I explained it to them. It was really quite simple, I said, I could have banged my head against the wall for not seeing it earlier! I almost did, too, but then they'd really have thought I'd gone crackers. It took them quite some time to understand what I was talking about and when they finally got it... their reaction was exactly what I had expected. James had *that* gleam in his eyes, you know, the one he's always got when we're about to pull a fabulous prank or something, and Peter was grinning like a Cheshire Cat. Boy, we couldn't wait to tell Remus.  
  
His reaction, though, was nothing like I had expected. When he came back from the hospital wing, totally dead on his feet, and dropped onto his bed like a stone we told him. I mean, he really could use some good news. I had the honour of being the bearer of these and announced them without beating about the bush. With baited breath we waited - and waited. He just stared at us with those big blue eyes of his for what seemed like eternity. Then he shook his head violently. "You can't be serious!"  
  
If you think I did that stupid pun on my name to lighten the mood or something at that point, then think again. This was no laughing matter. I was as earnest as hell about it and I told him so.  
  
In the end, I think, it was good that we had that argument when Remus was so tired and thus easily persuaded. After about two hours of debating he just gave up ('Do what you want, it's your bloody health!'). We got an oath on his honour from him, too, so that he wouldn't back out afterwards. It was a bit Slytherin - okay, it was quite Slytherin, but it was for his own good, and anyway, I reckon he wouldn't have agreed quite so easily if it wasn't for the fact that he most probably had thought we couldn't pull it off. 'Quite so easily'... that's a bit of an understatement, I mean, we did argue for *two* whole bloody hours but then, Remus's quite stubborn and if he had really wanted to he'd have continued till we were all well over a hundred and fifty.  
  
To be continued...  
  
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Reviews are appreciated. Flames will be used to heat fire beneath the cauldron in which the flamer will be cooked. Now hit the button and write something nice (if you know what's good for you *cackle*)!  
  
VM 


	2. Chapter Two: Benzen

Brilliance  
  
By Viridian Magpie  
  
Disclaimer: Don't own. Thus: don't sue!  
  
Chapter summary: language gets cruder as Sirius is faced with slimy Slytherins, ill werewolves, and a blushing? McGonagall - read more to find out!  
  
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Chapter Two: Benzen  
  
Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Don't you agree? If not, well, then that's too bad because I think it is. I mean, it doesn't matter when you eat it, right? If it did than I'd have to say that lunch is the most important meal of the day. I always eat breakfast around noon - at least during the holidays and on the weekends. But since it doesn't matter, I repeat myself: breakfast is the most important meal. Even on school days when you have to get up earlier than any normal human being. I'd even say *especially* then. Why? Simple. It's the time when we can reap what we have sown, prank-wise.  
  
We can't actually see the fruits of our (mis)deeds - or receive the detentions for it (if they can actually proof that it was us) -, though, when we haven't done anything. Like on that day. As I told you we had been having a heated debate the night before. That's why it did not only surprise all our classmates but us as well when McGonagall and Benzen, the current Head of Slytherin House - he really did speak those capital letters when introducing himself - asked to have a word with us. I said 'asked' but it was actually an order. I stared longingly at my bacon and eggs for a few moments. I was hungry and we had only just started after all. Peter voiced exactly this but the teachers wouldn't have any of it. They didn't even tell us what was going on when James asked, just repeated that we should come along. All of us, except Mr. Lupin. My heart went into my boots. They couldn't have already found out about the Animagus thing now, could they? McGonagall grew more impatient by the second so we complied to their demands. We exited the Great Hall among many whispers - and a self- satisfied smirk. Snape. He couldn't possibly have known and told about our secret ambition. I knew if someone had looked at me at that moment my brows would have been creased. Something fishy was going on.  
  
I chanced a look at my two friends to see if they had noticed, too. They hadn't. James was as white as a sheet. It seemed he - like I did earlier - was considering the Animagus theory. Peter just looked baffled. Benzen watched us from the corner of his left eye. That man really loathed us. One good thing, though, was that he'd hopefully be gone soon - he was looking forward to retirement; though, if I had been Head of Slytherin I would have been eagerly anticipating it, too, come to think of it. The other was that he taught Herbology. A subject which you can't possibly fail if you learn hard enough. Of course, having a knack for handling plant and herbs is useful, as well, but not necessary.  
  
Anyroad, we walked along the main corridor of Hogwarts. Paintings left and right waved cheerily at us and I couldn't resist to smile as Violet - the Fat Lady's best friend - winked. I shouldn't have. "Think it's fun, don't you?" Benzen growled. "Elmar," McGonagall murmured in reply, "we'll talk about this in my office." The old man sent a ferocious glare in my direction but let it go. I was too relieved to care, anyway. We weren't taken to Dumbledore's office which meant that we were at least not going to be expelled for whatever it was that this was all about. Some colour promptly returned to James' cheeks.  
  
Finally we arrived at McGonagall's office. With a simple nod of the head she motioned us to enter, shutting the door after Benzen had stomped in, too. Neither asked us to sit. Our Head of House positioned herself behind her desk and "Elmar" - what a ridiculous name! - leaned against it. "So," he said sneering. I wanted to answer 'So what?' but decided against doing so. It wouldn't go over too well. "So," he repeated. I glanced at McGonagall. She didn't seem to want to explain what was going on. They probably had agreed that Benzen would handle 'this' - whatever 'this' was. "This time you have gone too far." He had a most gleeful expression on his face. I bet he wouldn't show it if he hadn't turned his back towards the deputy Headmistress. I raised an eyebrow just as James asked "With what?".  
  
"Don't play dumb! It was you," he growled. "Mr Snape has seen - and felt - you emptying that bottle over his head!"  
  
"What bottle?"  
  
"That git!"  
  
"We didn't do anything."  
  
"What bottle?"  
  
"That slimy Slytherin git!"  
  
I forgot who said what but in the end didn't really matter. "Silence!" We closed our mouths immediately, McGonagall was towering right over of us by now. She looked formidable and frightening. "Am I correct in assuming that you claim you had nothing to do with - with this dilemma?" I nodded. James and Peter must have given their affirmations, as well, but I didn't pay attention to them. I was too occupied with the wonder before my very eyes.  
  
Was McGonagall really blushing?  
  
"Well, as we can't prove it was them -" She had caught herself again. I'd ask the guys if they had seen it, too, though.  
  
"Minerva!" Typical. As soon as McGonagall let us off the hook Benzen had to open his humungous mouth. "Mr. Snape will have to suffer from this as long as he lives and you want to let the culprits escape without punishment?"  
  
"We have no evidence that it was them except Mr. Snape's testimony, Elmar." She stared hard at us. "And it doesn't look like they'd confess in the near future."  
  
"That's because we haven't done it," Peter put in. Benzen snarled. McGonagall continued unabashed. "There is no other choice." Seeing he had lost this fight the Head of Slytherin glared and snapped at us to leave. With a decidedly cheery good-bye to our own Head of House and a curt nod to Benzen we did so happily.  
  
"I can't believe it," Peter breathed as soon as we were out of earshot.  
  
"You can't believe what, pipsqueak?" He didn't like being called that, so naturally I did it as often as I could. It fit him, too. Anyway, he ignored the jibe and continued. "I can't believe they called us away from breakfast just to tell us that they can't prove that we did whatever Snape told them that we did", he squeaked in that high squeaky voice of his. Like I said, 'Pipsqueak' fit him. My stomach growled its agreement but I ignored it for now. "Probably just Benzen being his horrible self." I couldn't help but wear an expression of pure delight. This was a most joyous event and I could ignore my stomach for its sake. James wanted to know why I had a goofy smile on my face. "Don't you see it?" They shook their heads. "Well, whatever happened to Snape. It's embarrassing and - "  
  
"Why is it embarrassing?" So much for hoping they had seen old McGonagall blush. They didn't believe me at first, either. "What have you been looking at the whole time?!" I finally exclaimed, exasperatedly. "Benzen's book," they stated in unison, then looked at each other. "What about it," I snapped. I really wanted to tell them why I was in such a good mood. "The one on the mating habits of pets." Peter answered and James stopped short. I almost ran into him. He stared straight ahead. I followed his gaze but couldn't see anything interesting. Just a coat of armour, the door to an old Charms classroom, lots of walls. "What is it?" I whispered. I don't know why I whispered. He slowly turned and grinned at me. A malicious grin. I prayed I wasn't at the receiving end of whatever he had cooked up. For I was certain he had - there was the Gleam in his eyes.  
  
But real life has a way of sneaking up on you when you least expect it. Just as James opened his mouth to announce his most ingenious thingy, plan, idea, whatever, the tardy bell rang. I cursed and we sped down to the Great Hall to get our bags which we had so *conveniently* forgotten. And I groaned as I remembered what we had first thing this morning. Herbology.  
  
I should have known that something like this would happen. I should have prevented it. I should have done a lot of things which I didn't and shouldn't have done things I did. Like staring at that Hufflepuff's arse the whole time. I might have only been twelve, well almost thirteen actually, but I was far ahead in certain aspects - and far behind in others but I digress (just love that word!). Starting at the beginning would be a grand idea I think. Alright, as James and Peter and me crossed the entrance hall Remus stopped us with a shout. We turned and saw him standing near the great doors, our bags by his feet, wearing a big smile. "Remus, you're brilliant!" I was in the mood to give compliments, somehow. He just kept grinning and said that he'd guessed we would be a bit late. We set off to Greenhouse Two immediately and would still have arrived in time if, well if our class *had* been at number Two. Only, they weren't.  
  
We must have looked pretty dumb gazing at the building, mouths wide open. "Where in hell are they?" I muttered. We looked around but none of us could find any trace, except for -  
  
"There! Look!" Remus pointed towards Greenhouse Three. I immediately saw it; there was the red head of Lily Evans disappearing into it. We raced towards number Three in record time, skidded to a halt and opened the door at exactly - 9:00:10 a.m. How we knew? Well Benzen informed us of this fact with a definitely false smile and the deduction of 30 house-points before he waved us in and began talking.  
  
"As I said before I was interrupted," - a glare in our direction - "we'll have a surprise test now. I assume you have read up on the plants I told you to. If you have you will have no problem recognising these and describing them as well as their properties." He waited a bit for the groans to subside. We didn't groan. We hadn't a reason to since we always studied hard for Herbology on account of the fact that we didn't want to give Benzen the satisfaction of being able to fail us.  
  
"Since I know that it is very hard to contain oneself and not look at one's neighbour's sheet each one of you will be getting a different plant. I will direct you to your species." I raised my eyes heavenwards. Paranoid git. I was one of the first to be "directed to my species". I almost sighed. Yes, make fun of my name if it pleases thee. Dogwood, really! I turned my head around to learn what the others had got but they were still standing by the entrance. Benzen went alphabetically, it seemed. Across from me I saw that Hufflepuff I told you about. Something Chesterton. Muggleborn. Quite a cute arse though.  
  
Or maybe he didn't, Remus was still waiting even as Benzen placed James and Peter to my left and right side. Strange that. Afterwards I knew why, of course. Anyway, a few seconds later Benzen told us if still had our books open now we'd have done him a great favour because he wouldn't have to correct our test, meaning he'd fail us. Well, anyhow, the test. I was finished within fifteen minutes. We had half an hour and so I put my quill down and looked around for a bit. The attractive Hufflepuff wore a look of deep concentration. It kinda looked like pouting. Peter chewed his fingernails while scribbling away furiously and James checked his grammar and spelling. Nothing of interest. I turned - and blanched. That *idiot*! I'm not sure who I meant, Remus or Benzen.  
  
The latter was watching the former like a hawk - no, actually more like a vulture. And for good reason, too. Remus resembled the Grey Lady in all aspects but his gender and solidity. This was about to change, though, and I don't mean the gender. He was working with freshly - and I emphasise FRESHLY - cut *monkshood*. I was frozen to the spot. Remus' nose was swollen red and he was constantly rubbing his eyes. He was having trouble breathing, too. How could I have missed that constant sniffle earlier? I was just about to give Benzen a piece of my mind - Housecup be damned! - when something happened that I would never forget in my whole life.  
  
You know, I wish I could say that the something was me remembering that no one was supposed to know about his condition or Benzen having a heart attack or even me having a heart attack but it wasn't. It was Remus going down to the floor. My heart did really stop for a moment then before I jumped into action and over the tables ignoring the protest of my fellow classmates. I didn't care about their tests results and they shouldn't either. Hadn't they noticed what had happened?  
  
"Mr. Black! Mr. Black!" I ignored Benzen as well and lifted Remus - that boy was way too thin! (gods, I sound like my mother) - and, one arm around his waist, dragged him through the crowd. Tried to at least. Without the help of James and Peter who had somehow appeared out of thin air beside me I wouldn't have got through. Everyone was standing around, gaping like bloody idiots. I swear I'd have killed them if I hadn't had my hands full. As it was my two friends pushed them out of the way. The only obstacle left was Benzen.  
  
"Mr. Black, return to your place. Mr. Lupin will be fine."  
  
"Like hell, he will!" I snapped and tried to side-step him. He was faster.  
  
"50 points from - "  
  
"Oh fuck you!" I shouted and pushed passed the git. There was no time for this. I slung Remus over my shoulder and ran towards the castle, James in hot pursuit. We hadn't got really far when I heard the famous word - 'expelled'. I didn't give a damn.  
  
To be continued...  
  
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Answers to reviews:  
  
+ Jobey: *beams with pride* Thank you so very much! One of the best authors on the net thinking my fic was (is?) enjoyable! :-)  
  
As you can see, I did indeed write and post some more. Actually, I didn't intend to end it - meaning the fic - at this point, it only marked the end of the chapter. I apologise for the confusion and I've already learned from my mistakes, too *see above: TBC*  
  
Glad that you like the characterisations. I've been worried that Sirius would not seem boyish (I'm still worried about that. I'm quite uncertain if bringing up Sirius' tendency to blame himself is really such a good idea. He does it as an adult, yes (see PoA: "I as good as killed them.") but that might have been because of his years in Azkaban.) Add to that the fact that I'm female, have no siblings, and went to an only-girls school (thus having no idea how boys around that age behave), and you can see where my problem lies.  
  
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, as well, and thanks again!  
  
VM  
  
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*singing off-key* R-E-V-I-E-W, you don't know what it means to me. R-E-V-I- E-W, show your love to me! *ducks tomatoes* 


	3. Chapter Three: Great man, Dumbledore

Brilliance  
  
Chapter summary: But why would I need a nurse? They surely would not flog me or would they? Disclaimer, and so on: see first chapter  
  
Chapter Three: Great man, Dumbledore  
  
"Madam Pomfrey!" James opened the door of the infirmary for us with a bang and I rushed in, Remus still in my harms. I was shouting at the top of my lungs. "Madam Pomfrey!" The nurse appeared from behind a drawn curtain glaring at everyone (namely me and James) who dared to disturb the silence of her sacred halls. Her territory. It didn't last for long though. As soon as the Hogwarts matron spied Remus she was by our side asking what had happened. She had always had a soft spot for him.  
  
"Monkshood," James stated in a whisper. I guess he didn't want whoever was behind the curtain to overhear. He's always had more common sense than me, I admit. "He was working with it in Herbology." Madam Pomfrey clucked angrily even as she helped me put Remus on a bed. She had clucking down to an art, you know. The most common clucks were sympathetically, angrily, annoyed, and concerned. It was quite awe inspiring how she managed to convey her moods with them so easily but I'm getting off topic again.  
  
She didn't even try to shoo us off, all of her concentration was on Remus. A fact that worried me greatly - that she didn't tell us to leave, I mean. It meant that it was so serious that she had forgotten about us. James and me stood there watching as she checked our friend's heartbeat, breathing and what not. Taking out her wand she proceeded to perform all kinds of spells. One produced the image of an instrument that looked somewhat like a thermometer, only it was colour-coded. She let out a gasp when it turned a deep burgundy red. I guessed that this was a bad sign but didn't ask.  
  
In a matter of seconds she had Accioed a potion - green and gooey it was and it looked decidedly unpleasant. I got a bad premonition at that point. It turned out to be true. She poured out two spoonful of that stuff and fed it to him. I gagged but Remus didn't notice a thing all the while. He was dead to the world. If it wasn't for his laboured breathing I'd've said he was. After putting the spoon on the bedside table Madam Pomfrey took notice of us again. At first, I thought she would send us away and I prepared for a heated debate. Only, it didn't come. Instead she told James to draw the curtains around the bed and pressed a bowl into my hand. Not good, definitely not good.  
  
I somehow have the tendency to blame myself for everything that goes wrong, maybe it's because it is mostly my fault when something goes awry. Awry, of course, only in the opinion of others, like when Uncle Hephestos swallowed my cousin's goldfish. I found that hilarious and not awry. Naturally, they blamed me for the whole thing but then it was my doing, too. After being through the ordeal I will soon describe, however, I was certain I had been penitent enough for my earlier inattention. And I was only the watching party, I might add. I didn't want to know how Remus had felt.  
  
As I said earlier he had been out and dead to the world but as soon as it started he was wide awake. It would have been better if he had remained in the Neverlands, though, I think it is impossible to stay unconscious when, er, stuff - phlegm, vomit, etc. - comes out of literally almost every hole: mouth, ears, eyes, nose. The bowl I was holding didn't really prevent the sheets from getting dirty, only from getting dirtier. Even the floor suffered. The culprit in this case, however, was James. By the end I was feeling decidedly ill, as well, but managed to suppress it for the sake of the House elves - and my dignity. (I refrained from teasing James about the fact that he, who was standing nearly two meters away, had got sick and I, who was in the very thick of things, hadn't puked my guts out. Well, refrained from it when Remus was there.) I won't go into much more detail, you get the picture, anyway.  
  
After the 'de-poisoning' Madam Pomfrey decided to keep the school's local werewolf in the hospital wing for the night. He had been exhausted after the whole ordeal. As both, James and I, wore slightly dirtied clothes - isn't understatement gear? - we left and headed for our dormitory to take a shower and change. After about five minutes under the assault of hot water what I had said to Benzen hit me like a ton of bricks. I thus resolved to drowning myself. James literally had to drag me out of the shower stall. It's one thing to mentally tell your teacher to fuck off but to do it for real... I was going to be expelled! James naturally couldn't offer any reassurances and didn't try. We both knew I was right. I went through the motion of dressing mechanically. James stared out of the window. I didn't want to face the end of my academic career just yet so I shooed Minx, James trusty cat, off of my bed and slumped down on it. "I'm going to be expelled," I repeated and put my pillow over my head. James noticed and wrenched it away before I could suffocate myself.  
  
"You're being overly dramatic," he grunted. I stared at him. "Oh yeah? Tell me again when it's *your* life that's going down the drain," I snapped and looked away. That didn't keep me from hearing him take some calming breaths. "Listen, you won't die -"  
  
"I just won't have the chance of getting a decent job," I finished bitterly. I had never noticed that the curtains and the bed sheets were of different material. Interesting.  
  
"You could switch to a Muggle school." A snort escape my lips. James was well aware that I knew about as much about Muggles as they did about wizards. Being pure-blooded has downsides, too, and while my family wasn't particularly prejudiced we never much discussed Muggle things, either.  
  
Peter came in at that moment. It gave me the chance to hastily wipe at my eyes. Some of the water from my wet hair must have run down my face.  
  
"How's Remus?" Glad for a distraction I told him the abridged version. I wasn't in the mood to be confronted with a sick Peter or to annoy James by recounting his less than Gryffindorish behaviour in the face of an ill comrade. While I did Peter deposited our bags in front of us and Remus' at his bed. It puzzled me for a moment how he managed to carry them all before I realised that there is indeed something like a Levitation charm. So much about being pure-blooded. Maybe the transition into the *other* world wouldn't be so hard.  
  
I remained motionless for a good few minutes watching Peter emptying his robe pockets and dropping their contents on the floor. Obviously, he was looking for something but I couldn't figure out what and didn't really feel much like asking. Suddenly he slapped his forehead.  
  
"Urg, I almost forgot. Benzen wants to see you in Dumbledore's office, as soon as possible."  
  
No surprise there. I wanted to keep the git waiting for a bit, just to annoy him, it couldn't really get any worse, anyhow, but James insisted on hurrying and so, hardly three minutes after Pipsqueak had made his announcement, we stood before the gargoyle that guarded the Headmaster's office. For reasons that weren't quite clear to me James had been ordered to appear, as well, or so Peter had implied.  
  
So, like countless times before, we gazed at that ugly beast of stone and like before we didn't know the password and thus had to choose between waiting till somebody who could let us in came along (I was all for that one) or rattling off the names of various sweets in hope of guessing correctly. Unfortunately, the decision was taken out of our hands as McGonagall approached, a strangely blank expression on her face. Hurrying along behind her was not Benzen, as one might have suspected, but Madam Pomfrey.  
  
Did they expect me to put up a fight fatally wounding Benzen, or what? Admittedly, I wouldn't have minded landing a good blow on the bastard's nose - and various other places while I was at it - but the business with the Hogwarts' matron went a bit too far in regard to damage control. Or was she here for me? But why would I need a nurse? They surely would not flog [1] me or would they? It would be preferable to getting the ax; on the other hand if they gave the task to Benzen then maybe not. I had no time to further ponder this question, however. The deputy Headmistress had ushered us up the stairs and into Dumbledore's office in a matter of seconds.  
  
The tension in the air was tangible. Most of it radiated off of Benzen who was glaring furiously at Dumbledore, even as the aged Professor put a sherbot lemon in his mouth with gusto, ignoring the proverbial daggers sent his way. The Headmaster, I noticed, was dressed as ludicrous as ever but somehow I couldn't find the strength in me to crack a smile at the tap dancing camels on his dark green robes. Sitting down behind his desk - he had politely risen when we had come in - Dumbledore invited us all to take a seat. Most of us obliged him but Benzen remained standing in his corner, looking for all the world like a sulking child.  
  
Absolute silence reigned then and I wondered if I was supposed to say something. And why hadn't Benzen opened his gob, yet? Surely, he must have been anxious as hell to gloat in the face of my imminent expulsion? Dumbledore cleared his throat and my full attention snapped back to him.  
  
"If you don't mind I would like to reconstruct the events of the past hour with your help?" I guessed that this was my cue to begin. Well, I certainly wouldn't go down without at least getting Benzen in trouble, as well, seeing as he had risked Remus' life for petty revenge. James intervened though and began to tell "the story of an hour" [2] before I could speak up and exaggerate Benzen's role (not that there was much to exaggerate but James did most probably recount what had happened in a more objective way than I would have).  
  
When he was done Dumbledore asked Madam Pomfrey to make a report on Remus' condition. She delivered it in a clinical tone but her concern for Remus and the anger at Benzen were obvious, nevertheless. I wholeheartedly agreed.  
  
"Had they brought him to me only five minutes later I wouldn't have been able to help him, anymore," she finished. My heart almost stopped a second time this day. I hadn't known it was that bad. Next to me James made a strange gurgling sound and I didn't need to see his face to know that it would be as white as a sheet. Dumbledore, on the other hand, looked quite calm and composed, as he always did. He even had the accustomed twinkle in his eyes and suddenly I understood what was going on and I had to bite my tongue and clutch the arms of my chair for otherwise I might have jumped up and kissed the man.  
  
"Considering these facts I find that young Mr. Black's behaviour may be excused, though it certainly does not bear repetition," here he stared at me intently and I quickly nodded my agreement," and thus must result in appropriate punishment. A week's worth of detention should suffice."  
  
I breathed a sigh of relief. Dumbledore's word is literally law, the only thing missing really was a hammer in his hand and he might as well have been a judge delivering a sentence over an unruly citizen, the way he looked - but I'm babbling again.  
  
Anyway, the whole affair must have irked Benzen greatly. I had it all pictured in my mind. Benzen red-faced and spluttering digesting what I had said, then raging to my classmates that I was going to be expelled. Somewhere in the middle of it he must have realised what it meant. His face had undoubtedly lit up and he surely almost danced his way up to Dumbledore's office. With glee he would then have informed the Headmaster that I had told him to fuck off, a crime worthy of expulsion. Dumbledore then most certainly wanted to know what had happened exactly. Benzen would have tried to leave out his role but his boss had looked right through it, had made him tell everything. The git's face had fallen as he'd realised that Dumbledore was on my side, and he'd fumed, and fumed, and fumed, up to the point when he was glaring murderously at the Headmaster while I entered the office.  
  
There was no way in hell, Benzen wouldn't rave and rant and discriminate me in future lessons but he couldn't possible harm me for this episode, anymore. "De eadem re non est bis iudicandum" [3]or something (my Latin rather sucks).  
  
But anyway, to quote Hagrid, "Great man, Dumbledore!"  
  
+++  
  
[1] Doing physical harm to students as a punishment was abolished in GB in the 1970s; if I remember correctly it was 1975, can't say for sure, though.  
  
[2] "The Story of an Hour" was written by Kate Chopin (The Complete Works of Kate Chopin, ed. by Peer Seyerstedt (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1966), pp. 352-357). I disclaim any and all rights on it.  
  
[3] !Roughly! translates to "There mustn't be two trials about the same occurrence." A Roman statute.  
  
*******  
  
Answers to reviews:  
  
+ Snuffles: Thank you!  
  
+ Jobey: Why not? Just saying what's true. :-)  
Thank you very much! I'm really happy he comes across as being a relatively normal boy.  
About the book and the blushing: You'll see *smiles mysteriously*. But it's good that you've picked  
it up, 'cause it will be important later on.  
If you like Benzen, then maybe I'll keep him a bit longer. He such a nice villain, it really would be a  
shame to send him into retirement too early.  
The breakfast rhapsody: that's a bit from my real life, I like eating brekkie at noon (cos I hate getting  
up earlier, and if I don't have to, then I naturally won't and end up eating my toast around 12 p.m. or  
something *grins sheepishly*.  
  
+ Hrei-siesn: Thanks! And, don't worry. I like Remus too much to kill him, though as you can see I'm  
not above torture.  
  
********  
  
AN: first time I used footnotes. Liked - liked not? Do they hinder the story's flow? Tell me your opinion! 


	4. Chapter Four: The Redleaved Sneebiscus

Brilliance  
  
Chapter summary: "I'll just say one word -" - "Snape," James finished for me. I grinned.  
  
Chapter Four: The Redleaved Sneebiscus  
  
About one week passed before I remembered Snape. That is, I hadn't really forgotten him - that would have been quite a feat if I really had, though, considering that firstly I saw him almost daily and secondly, you'd have to be blind to miss Bthat nose - it's just that the reason for why I had been in such a good mood after we had left McGonagall's office had left my memory for this period of time.  
  
Mind you, I had my arms and mind full with other things. One, of course, were the daily detentions under the careful supervision of our Bbeloved caretaker; another was the attention that the weaving of a tangled web of lies requested. We couldn't very well tell anyone the real reason as to why Remus had lost conscience in the middle of a Herbology lesson now, could we?  
  
Luckily, Peter overheard Anna McPhearson, who had been standing next to Remus during the test, prattling on about the species she had to describe. "Naturally, Professor Benzen gave me the most difficult plant, a Redleaved Sneebiscus...." As it happened, the Redleaved Sneebiscus was indeed a 'difficult' plant but not in the way that Anna meant it. No, this innocent little weed was the reason that about one fifth of the wizarding population had teary eyes and red noses each spring. Five percent of these had violent allergic reactions to it - a figure taken out of "Health Today", a magazine James' father sent his son regularly for not only did the Potter Junior use a vocabulary reminiscent of that of a doctor's but he also had a keen interest in all that medical stuff.  
  
Anyroad, as soon as Peter had mentioned the plant and James had remembered the article it was a child's play: we just told everyone that asked that Remus was allergic to the Sneebiscus. We even had unwitting aide in this little deception. It came in the form of Darius Weasley, a seventh year who enjoyed being in the centre of attention just a bit too much. Dear Darius, it seemed, had this allergy and when Remus returned from the infirmary he gave a detailed description of his own usual reaction to the Sneebiscus to everyone in the common room, thus diverting attention from Remus.  
  
The four of us came to the unspoken agreement that we would - in return - stop harassing the redhead in the future. Before that he had taken the brunt of our pranks (Darius was a very enticing victim, you have to know, very formal and rule-abiding but a good sport if it came to jokes. If it hadn't been for his laziness he most certainly would have made Headboy).  
  
So, these and other things taken care of, my mind was clear to remember Snape and I convinced the others that we absolutely had to find out what had happened to our favourite Slytherin. For one thing, this was just too good to let it pass, I mean a Bpermanent discomfort for Snape (maybe it would even entail blackmail material!!). Secondly, that git had framed us. Revenge was obligatory and therefore it was time to call the next meeting of HUMM into order. HUMM, that's short for Hogwarts' United Mischief Makers: It was a club we had founded at the beginning of our second year, complete with rituals, secret signs, and even something that resembled a constitution. All of this was, of course, secret and thus we hadn't written all that stuff down, which didn't really matter since, as Bwe had designed it we knew everything about it, anyhow.  
  
We had these meetings regularly (and I can proudly say that I've never missed a single one) and so none of the others were surprised when one evening in the common room I proclaimed that I had a lust for Bertie Botts' (which was our code for announcing a meeting. To tell you the truth, the whole business of informing each other of a gathering by means of a code was rather pointless since we met the others in our dorm each evening, anyway. But in our opinion it added to the atmosphere and we kept that part).  
  
So, one by one we left the common room and headed upstairs. As James and I settled down on our beds Remus performed an Anti-Eavesdropping Spell. Peter meanwhile dived into his trunk and retrieve a box of Bertie Botts' and several Chocolate Frogs. I've already told you that we had something like a constitution; well, article one said that we were a democracy; article two made clear that the decision of who headed each convention would be felled at the end of the precedent meeting. Most of the time we voted for our dear Pipsqueak. Oh, before I forget to mention it, the reason why he got out his sweets was that the chairman was responsible for the provisions.  
  
Okay, so Remus and Peter joined us and Peter commenced the meeting by taking the roll-call. "Mischief Maker One?" (James)  
  
"Present." James took the roll-call very serious.  
  
"Mischief Maker Two?" (me)  
  
"Physically, yes!"  
  
Mischief Makers Three and Four - Remus and Peter respectively - were there, as well, of course, obviously. The chairman cleared his throat. I squirmed a bit wishing he'd hurry up.  
  
"The Oaths." This was what took the longest but we wouldn't have wanted to omit if for everything in the world. It was just too much fun and the best of ALL the rituals. Wish I could say I had discovered it but it had been Remus, the incarnation of a scholar - when he isn't indulging himself by playing illegal card games (like Poker) and stripping everyone of their last Knuts. I could tell that by the time we'd reach third year no one in Gryffindor (and possibly even in the other houses - the Ravenclaws were beginning to cotton on) would dare to play against him anymore. Well, except maybe me. My family's got money like hay, so I don't mind losing a bit. Especially since I plan to win them back when I'm as good as (or maybe better than) Remus. No one in school will know what hit them and till they get it I'll be a few Galleons richer... Hmm, Uncle Hephestos is starting to rub off on me, I think, that's definitely a very Slytherin idea. Well, nothing against a bit of ambition and cunning, I guess. As long as I refrain from getting slimy, ugly, and dumb, it's alright.  
  
"I solemnly swear that making mischief is the topmost priority in my life and that I will not ever abandon a fellow marauder in need nor breathe a word of HUMM to anyone outside. Zeus, Hermes and Artemis shall attest to my faithfulness and punish me by dissolving my brain and letting another come by my broom." It's a funny thing what the old Hethites [1] swore on. When they made contract they called upon their gods and goddesses as witnesses, said their part and finished the whole thing by adding that if they should fail to do what they said they would, that they brains should dissolve and drop onto the ground and another man should come by their wives and children. Peter's first reaction to that was "Gross!" and I actually agreed but the more we thought about it the better we liked it. It had something exotic, you know. We had to modify the part about the wife and children and instead list what was most precious to us. In James case, that was his broom, of course. Peter's most prized possession was his collection of Chocolate Frog Cards, Remus' was an argent pendant he had got from his grandma before he had been bitten (his mother had dipped it into a bottle of everlasting transparent nail-polish which coated the metal so he could were it still). Mine, was an authentic autograph from Hamish MacFarlan [2].  
  
"... come by my collection of Chocolate Frog Cards." We stared expectantly and Peter who had just finished is Oath. He licked his lips nervously. "Er." I almost slapped my forehead. Honestly! He forgot that part Beverytime.  
  
'Open the meeting,' Remus mouthed.  
  
"Right," he flushed and grinned sheepishly. "Er, this meeting is hereby declared open?" It sounded more like a question than a statement but I wasn't going to fuss. I had something important to bring to their attention and Remus gave me the perfect cue. "So what is this all about, then?" I smirked. You know, it always greatly unsettles people when someone smirks instead of answering their questions, and I enjoyed baiting Remus - on a friendly basis, of course - since he was so calm all the time (something that helped him immensely while playing illegal card games - you didn't really know what pokerfaced meant till you saw him). Unfortunately, it was rather hard to get a rise out of Remus and I hadn't succeeded up to this point and didn't either on this occasion. Well, it was always worth trying.  
  
I glanced left and right and leant forward conspiratively. The others followed suit. "I'll just say one word -"  
  
"Snape," James finished for me. I grinned happily and Remus rolled his eyes heavenward.  
  
"Honestly, mate. You've got a one track mind."  
  
I mock-pouted. "Fine, if you don't want to hear it..."  
  
I left it hanging, waiting, and sure enough: "No, tell us!"  
  
Good ol' Pipsqueak. You could always count on him.  
  
"Okay, if you're sure." I stretched a bit and cracked my bones. Peter looked slightly pale in response. He couldn't stomach much. Once, in our first year, I showed him my trick of bending my thumb into the wrong direction, he actually fainted. Good thing, too, that he wasn't there during this episode in the hospital wing.  
  
I had enough of stalling at this point. I mean, stalling was kinda gear, it got people to pay more attention to you, even quiver in anticipation from time to time, but you had to be careful because if you waited too long they'd get bored or even snappy. Not wanting that to happen I launched into my - could you call it a story? I mean, it was actually just a few things I had picked up and a suggestion I wanted to propose - hmm, well, so I launched into my suggestion. I explained... that's it! I launched into my explanation of how I had seen McGonagall blush, of how this meant that whatever happened to Snape must have been very embarrassing and of how there was no way that we wouldn't exact revenge upon him for framing us. "The best way to do this," I concluded, "is by finding out what happened and what the effects are, and then to tell the whole school about it."  
  
James looked thoroughly convinced, but then it never took much convincing with James when it came to mischief. Peter looked sceptic. "How do we find out?" I considered this for a moment. "By watching him, closely, I guess. See, if anything has changed about his behaviour, appearance or habits." That sounded like a plan. Pipsqueak was satisfied by this and Jamsie made an approving noise. We turned towards Remus, who, we discovered, wore a decidedly uncomfortable expression.  
  
My face fell a bit then. I had thought it was a grand idea and voiced this objection. "That's not it," he replied and averted his eyes to gaze out of the window. I was confused. "Remus?" He shifted a bit and sighed.  
  
"Are you positive McGonagall flushed because she was embarrassed?"  
  
"Yes," I drew out. What was he getting at?  
  
"And if it wasn't?" He stared square into my eyes now. I still didn't cotton on and it must have been evident on my face.  
  
"What if it wasn't embarrassing but...something else." I had misinterpreted his expression earlier. He wasn't uncomfortable, he was angry. "You proclaim to tell the whole school about something that might..." He bit his lip and didn't finish that sentence. He didn't need to because I had finally got it.  
  
"Don't be daft. If it was something like that we wouldn't tell anyone. Even if it is Snape we're talking about." James and Peter nodded solemnly in agreement and Remus deflated a bit.  
  
In retrospect, I understood why he'd get uncomfortable and even angry. When we had confronted him about - no, when we had told him that we knew about his 'condition' (and there's this stupid word again) he confided to us that he had been and always would be very afraid that someone might just do what we had done (observed his habits and stuff) and tell everyone else. I can be a thick headed prick at times, though naturally, I wouldn't admit that to anyone. So, anyway, this obstacle taken care of, we nevertheless planned on how to best approach "Mission: Argus' eyes". Remus with his vast knowledge of mythology contributed the name, after being reassured by us that we'd make a distinction between embarrassing and dangerous for anyone to know.  
  
Planning the mission wasn't really a challenge so the meeting was rather short - or would have been, if James hadn't raised another topic.  
  
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[1] Ancient tribe, even older than the Ancient Greeks. Er, I think their territory was somewhere in  
Turkey, I'm not sure though. The ritual I described is authentic, by the way [2] Montrose Magpies' Quidditch Captain (1957-1968), Quidditch through the Ages  
  
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A/N: Hmm, I actually wanted to write what James had in mind but I won't have access to a computer for a while, couldn't spell-check, either, because I wanted to post this before I'm gone. Hope there weren't too many mistakes in it. I don't know when I'll be able to update next time, because I most probably won't have the time to write, as well. (I still don't know how I let myself be convinced to come along on this trip. And having to stay at such a hotel! I've read a few reviews on it that more or less all agree that the hotel's noisy and dirty. Hrmph! Why me?)  
  
Anyway, don't worry I won't be longer than three weeks maximum (and I've already written two whole sentences of chapter five, go me! Sirius gets a bit philosophical again.)  
  
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Answers to reviews:  
  
+ Hrei-siesn: Thank you! Yeah, chapter 3 is the grossest chapter of the fic, the others won't be that explicit (at least, I don't think they will. Can't promise, though, cos when inspiration strucks I might write another scene like it. Haven't planned it, however). Yes, Benzen, the poor guy will have to get used to it. He just won't be able to rid himself of Sirius and the gang.  
  
+ Spark-Chick: okay, positive feedback on the footnotes means I keep them. Thank you for the praise!  
  
+ I Love Snuffles: Thank you! *glows with pride*  
  
+ I give it all to Mr. Black: Telling your most hated teacher to "fuck off" - and getting away with it! - is something everyone dreams of, I think. Well, at least, I did. A good way to pass your summer? *beams* Thank you!  
  
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Read it? Liked it? Even outright enjoyed it? Tell me! 


	5. Chapter Five: This is only the beginning

Brilliance  
  
By Viridian Magpie  
  
Standard disclaimer applies.  
  
A/N: *looks ashamed* shortest chapter, yet. But I have an excuse! I wanted to update as soon as possible and considering that I wrote this while experiencing a bout of writer's block for this fic, it's not that bad. The week in hell was just that, hell. I've written a ten pages essay on that bloody hotel alone, hotel bashing, of course!  
  
A/N2: FREE SERVICE OFFERED: if you want to be notified of an update, leave a review ala "yep, wanna know". - You may be a tad more eloquent, as well, of course! *g*  
  
End of A/N.  
  
Chapter Five: This is only the beginning  
  
In my opinion, if somebody doesn't like animals they don't like humans, either, and the other way round. I mean, how could they? Aren't humans animals, as well? Mankind is a species, related to other animals such as pigs or monkeys. Can someone like one species but loathe all others? Can someone like all species but one? The answer is quite obviously 'no'. You can fear one or more species, yes (to not run away in fright when faced with a Hungarian Horntail would be downright foolish) but you may not mistake this for hate or disgust.  
  
Hmm, I somehow don't think it's very clear what I mean. Well, let's just put it like James did. Why would Benzen, a man who loathes humans and animals alike, carry around a book about the mating habits of common pets? It just didn't make sense.  
  
Our dear Jamsie didn't leave us to solve this riddle on our own, however, since he already had. "The toad, of course."  
  
"Eh? What does Esmeralda have to do with it?" Esmeralda was Benzen's pet toad. Now, don't think that he liked her - as I said, Benzen loathed everything that breathes oxygen. No, our dear Professor used Esmeralda to show the effects of certain plans to the pupils by feeding her bits of the weeds or sprinkling her with their juice. That these effects weren't always pretty or painless is obvious. It was scandalous but nobody ever did anything about the fact that he treated her like vermin. He hadn't even given her a name, we did that, and since Benzen is an ugly git, we bestowed upon the toad the name of Quasimodo's love. Fitting.  
  
"Simple," James answered Peter's question, "he wants her to reproduce so he can use her children for his experiments."  
  
"Out of question," I cried and brought my fist down upon the mattress. It didn't quite have the effect I wanted it to. I promised myself to crack my knuckles menacingly later on instead, when we'd debate on how to best exact revenge on the git.  
  
"Yes," Peter nodded solemnly. "He'd just abuse them as he does Esmeralda!"  
  
James looked grave and for a moment he resembled Dumbledore. I'd have to get myself a pair of glasses, I thought. People with specs always got the game with their facial expressions down to an art (at least, the ones I knew did). The only question was, if it was the specs or the reason for the specs, that caused this talent in mimics.  
  
"Indeed. But it still would be better to give Benzen what he wants." This declaration was met with an incredulous silence. Was James out of his flipping mind?! Or was he just plain stupid?  
  
Which reminds me! Another thing about people with glasses are, that they always look mightily intelligent. On the other hand, that might not always be of advantage. I once read a book, a Muggle book, about a wizard and his apprentices. This one wizard, you know, he was a dark one, and he always killed the pupils that got to powerful or acquired to much knowledge. Well, except one. He survived because he pretended to be stupid but, actually, he was studying magic in secret and by the end of the book he was powerful enough to stop the dark wizard. [1] So looking stupid, actually wasn't such a bad thing. Maybe, I wouldn't get myself a pair of glasses.  
  
"Have you ever heard of the Mulimitation Charm?" I looked at him, eyebrows raised. I hadn't, and neither had Remus and Peter. James, of course, had.  
  
The Multimitation Charm, he explained, is a charm often used by healers and by scientists in laboratories. It produces and infinite number of copies of the original object, which retain the characteristics of the original. It can be used to 'clone' small animals, but more often finds utilisation in duplicating blood corpuscles to remedy extreme blood loss until a donor (or a Sanguis Potion) can be found. Because this was the crux of the thing. The Charm only lasted for a 24 hours and a few odd seconds (the time the earth needs to once revolve around its own axis).  
  
That's something funny, anyway. In our first Astronomy lesson we didn't immediately look at all the stars and the moon and stuff and say, ah, there's Canis Maior. Wow, what a bright star! Or, look! There's Ursa Minor! Nah, Professor Sideria first made us learn everything important about the earth, like that it needs 365 x 24 + 6 hours to circle around the sun. And that because we "make" our days last exactly 24 hours and not 24 hours and 59.178 seconds, a leap year is required every four years (59.178 x 365 x 4 = 86400 seconds = 24 h). I found it boring then, the next lesson, too. That one was all about the moon, and how far from the earth it is and how big and that the it takes 27.32 days (and not a whole month) to wane and wax. Later on (in second year) I discovered why this might be of interest to anyone but back then it was deadly dull.  
  
Speaking of deadly, it hadn't until that point occurred to me that if someone was going to pay for putting Remus in the infirmary, it should by all means be Benzen. While it was Snape who framed us, it was still Benzen who got so worked up over the fact that we got away scot-free that he tried to kill one of us.  
  
What had Dumbledore done about that, anyhow? He certainly hadn't sacked Benzen. Had he even punished him? A fine seemed very inappropriate, more so a simple telling off. Could a teacher be barred from Hogsmeade weekends, as Alfred Goyle had been, when he had beaten up a first-year Hufflepuff? Or receive detention? The picture of Benzen, kneeling in front of the infirmary's bedpans, piss on his hands and sweat on his face, sprang to my mind immediately. I snorted. The others, used to my regular bouts of insanity, didn't even blink or ask what I was thinking now, nor did James stop in his narrative. "I'd say, we do it tomorrow night."  
  
"Saturday would be better, actually." Remus, who since the introduction of this topic had been rather quiet, shifted his gaze back from the window - just when had he started staring out of the darn thing again? - towards our little group. "It's a Hogsmeade weekend, lesser chance of getting caught." That was true, not only third years and above (and just why couldn't it be *second* years and above?!) used the chance to spend as much time away from school as possible, the teachers did too.  
  
"We can't be sure if he really will go, though," I put in. Benzen hardly ever left Hogwarts. He even had spent Christmas here for the last four years (quoth Darius Weasley) which was quite surprising since he had a wife - the ring on his finger gave it away. It was quite egoistic of her to keep him away from home (and at Hogwarts, where he could torment us), though; on the other hand, we could sympathise with the poor lady. Who would willingly want to spend Christmas with such a git? Not to mention, marry him. What had that woman been thinking? James and I had come to the conclusion that she must have been drunk at the time.  
  
"That's a risk I'm willing to take." Like I said, I hadn't thought much about Benzen in the last week but Remus had, it seemed. Only logical, the man had tried to kill him, after all but something made me stop and look a bit closer at my friend. There was a difference about him but what? I regarded him systematically. Okay, shoes were the same murky brown colour, the socks not visible because of the long black trousers (too long but he would grow into them and that's why his mother had bought them, he had once told me), same slightly greyish uniform and tie. His hair hadn't changed one iota, either, except that it had grown. Nothing outward then. Or was it? His face, I realised, he looked - vengeful.  
  
"And me, too." There was an edge in James voice and he looked pointedly at me and Peter, who quickly stated that he was game. I got the feeling that James hadn't cooked up this prank all alone.  
  
And looking at the determined expression on both, his and Remus', faces another thought rushed into my head: this was only the beginning.  
  
+++  
  
[1] This is actually a real book but I forgot who wrote it and what it was called. I read it about seven or eight years ago. Don't have it at home, either. So, if anyone recognises the plot line, tell me. I'd like to put up a proper disclaimer for it.  
  
+++  
  
Answers to reviews...: Thank you, people!  
  
+ I give it all to Mr. Black: lol, your poor teacher! *g* Please, if they ever catch you, leave me out it! Otherwise I'd probably have to take this fic down and then innocently ask the police officer just what this is all about. ;-)  
  
+ Jobey: *beams* Thank you!  
  
+ I Love Snuffles: Thank you (for both the compliment and wishing me luck)! About the latter: it was hell. It was worse than hell. Why was it worse, you might ask. Simple: I would have liked to book a room at a different hotel but it was not possible. I would have liked to leave immediately but this, too, was out of question. (Well, I probably could have but the ticket back would have cost about as much as the whole trip (which includes the money for the "hotel")). On the other hand, while I didn't write anything of 'Brilliance' (pun intended) there (with the exception of the odd paragraph (the one at the beginning that just doesn't really make any sense)) I, at least, gathered a few ideas for the fic.  
  
About Snape: not even Sirius and his friends will ever really find out just what exactly has happened. I'm considering writing a cookie though, possibly from Snape's point of view but nothing's certain, yet.  
  
"anyhooties": *laughs* I like that word. Would you mind if I used it in a fic? I'd put up an official disclaimer, too.  
  
+++  
  
...which reminds me: *clears throat*  
  
Leave a review, please be kind,  
  
even if it's just one line!  
  
Like, adore, love, loathe, abhor?  
  
Tell me! Whatcha waiting for? 


	6. Chapter Six: Sherlock Holmes

Brilliance  
  
By Viridian Magpie  
  
Disclaimer: Non mihi sed Rowlingi sunt!  
  
+++  
  
Chapter Six: Sherlock Holmes  
  
"Anything out of the ordinary?"  
  
I stared a bit harder, while trying my best not to be too obvious about it.  
  
"Er,..."  
  
I hesitated for a moment. Well, we had agreed on noting *anything* that looked different about him. But did greasy hair count? I wondered.  
  
"Anything?" Peter repeated.  
  
Well, if you insist, Pipsqueak. I put on a serious expression.  
  
"He hasn't washed his hair."  
  
James snorted and actually started snickering. Peter rolled his eyes.  
  
"Brilliant observation, Sherlock, but we've always known of his poor hygienic habits."  
  
I glared. Never, ever was I going to get him a Muggle book for his birthday - or any other occasion - again. At the point when I had purchased it, I thought it was an excellent idea; considering that it was August 31st, that Peter's birthday was on September 1st, and that I hadn't found anything to give him, yet. In my defence, I have to add that getting a present for Peter is about as difficult as finding an iceberg in the Sahara - no, scratch that, finding an iceberg is easier; had been ever since Malcom McDougal, referee in a Cannons - Harpies match, had been hexed there and, after three days spent in the desert without water or a wand, "decided" that he needed something to cool (he wasn't particularly lucid).  
  
To this day the guys from the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad are still trying to figure out how to get rid of the giant block of ice that peacefully sits on a dune and refuses to melt.  
  
As anyone can see, getting Peter a gift is impossible. I mean, with James and Remus it's fairly easy. James is crazy about three things: pranks, Quidditch and Transfigurations. You'll always find something. Remus is a cardsharp and a bookworm. No problem. But Peter... well, he likes sweets, but I had already owled the others and had discovered to my dismay that they'd both be giving him candy. I shouldn't have waited so long before getting him something, than James would have been in my situation and not me.  
  
So, me was in quite a mess. That's why me thought me should go into Muggle London and look for something there. (Me likes talking like that. Me thinks it's fun. Though, me suddenly realises me sounds like House-Elf, so me will stop).  
  
Going into Muggle London is easier said than done. First off, I had to convince my parents to allow me to go. Then, because Mum said I was not to go alone, I had to convince my sister that she really wanted to visit Muggle London, as well. I had hoped I could do it in an underhand way, by planting the idea in her head that she absolutely had to see modern Muggle fashion. Unfortunately, she looked right through it - that or she had overheard me and Mum arguing, my money's on the latter - and since I had nothing to blackmail her with I now owed her a favour. Oh, woe was me!  
  
After dressing in proper Muggle attire (for me that meant jeans and tee- shirt) and receiving our allowances for September in Pounds, we Flooed to the Leaky Cauldron and left the pub through the front door. Then we stood there for a good three minutes till I got impatient.  
  
"And where to now?" I snapped.  
  
It was Nelle's turn first to decide where we would head to. Only, she couldn't; decide, that is. She was worrying her lip. "What would you say?" I looked up an down the street, shops everywhere. Any direction seemed fine.  
  
"Right."  
  
She nodded.  
  
"Then we'll go left."  
  
I sighed. Honestly! Which one of us was the younger one?  
  
I followed, anyway, and soon ended up in a clothing store. After dressing into what seemed to be 30 blouses and 45 skirts, Nelle left and immediately went into the next clothing store. I trailed her, reluctantly. Five clothing and three cosmetics shops later, I was carrying half of her 13 bags and her time was up. She didn't take notice, didn't even react when I told her; so, I conveniently "lost" my older sister between two racks with girl's underwear and set out to find a birthday present for Pipsqueak. I walked into the first building that didn't seem to sell any sort of garments or makeup. It was a grocery store. Not really what I had been looking for.  
  
Outside again, I met Nelle who had been searching frantically for me. She started ranting, but I ignored her and continued on my way. By the third unsuccessful attempt at finding something, anything, in one of the buildings I went into, she was hoarse. By the time I finally found a little, well hole, that sold all kinds of junk, I couldn't make out what she was saying anymore. Perhaps, that had helped. It took only a few seconds for me to spy the book I've mentioned and only a few moments more to buy it.  
  
"Wow, Watson, you know big words!" I countered referring to Holmes assistant. Three months after he'd read the book, everyone in our dorm knew it in so much detail that we would never have to peruse it ourselves. We didn't plan to.  
  
"Funny."  
  
Peter rolled his eyes again.  
  
I would have had the perfect comeback but Remus piped up at this point (probably more to keep us from arguing than out of any real interest).  
  
"Actually, Sirius's right."  
  
Well, *of course*, was I right. That had never really been a question. Still, it felt good, if someone took your side. Have I mentioned that Remus is an excellent friend?  
  
"But it could still be coincidence. Which is rather likely."  
  
Have I mentioned that Remus is also obnoxious?  
  
"We should put it on the list, though - just in case."  
  
I had almost forgiven him, but then he had added those last three words. I sulked. They ignored me. Fine friends, I had!  
  
Snape left the dinner table and so did we. Remus and Peter headed towards the library, both for extra-credit assignments. I shook my head at them, but refrained from commenting. James had let it slip that he wanted to do the Charms essay. With everyone else burying themselves in their homework I resolved my self to getting some work done, as well. The common room was crowded so we chose our dorm instead. Minx sprawled on James' bed again. He plopped onto it and the cat narrowly avoided becoming a pancake by jumping aside. She hissed.  
  
"Uh oh, I think she's angry at you."  
  
"Let her."  
  
Taking out our Charms books - simultaneously without meaning to - and other stuff we settled down to 'fulfil our duties as pupils', which is a euphemism for 'doing homework'.  
  
We toiled in silence for about five minutes. While my bed was comfy, I had opted for the floor - less of a mess there (at least in Peter's territory) - and so I had to crane my neck, when suddenly I heard a curse.  
  
"Stupid, bloody cat!"  
  
"You brought it unto yourself, mate."  
  
I grinned. Minx had pushed over her master's inkpot soaking not only his sheets but the parchment with his essay on it, too.  
  
"Thanks for the support!" He snapped while getting up and shoving his pet out through the door.  
  
"Anytime."  
  
James grumbled something in return which I didn't fully hear and probably didn't want to. It didn't sound very flattering. We continued and I started to feel like a Hufflepuff (you know the 'hardworking and unafraid of toil' line). It was getting to me and I needed a distraction.  
  
"When are we going to start with the Animagus stuff?" I asked. I waited for a reply, but nothing came forward for a while, so I scribbled a few more words keeping silent. Patience is a virtue and as such will be rewarded.  
  
"As soon as Peter's done with his DADA extra-credit essay, he'll ask McGonagall, if he can do one for Transfiguration."  
  
It wasn't necessary for him to say that our project needed to remain top secret and we thus needed an excuse to borrow books on Animagi from the library. It was also left unsaid, but generally understood, that we'd sort of steal the ones in the Restricted Section (which were the ones we'd actually require to accomplish the transformation). We'd bring them back, of course.  
  
First, however, we needed all the background information.  
  
James took his glasses off and rubbed at his eyes with both hands. "I'm sick of this stupid essay. Wanna play Exploding Snap?"  
  
This was the James I knew and loved - as a friend! I quickly agreed, got out my cards came over to him.  
  
While I was shuffling James fumbled for his specs.  
  
"Er, have you seen-?"  
  
"Behind you. Left."  
  
That boy and his glasses! Every other day we had to turn the room upside down to find his seeing aide. I mean, you'd think that because he doesn't see a thing without them he'd leave them on all the time, but not Jamsie. Once I'd even found them in the shower stall!  
  
We played until the others returned - they did so rather late - and then called it a day. As I lay down on my bed and closed my eyes, I figured I wouldn't be able to fall asleep right off. My imagination was being its usual overactive self as I pictured the expression on Benzen's face, when he would discover our little prank. It was a pity we couldn't stay to watch. Maybe, it was the exhaustion of writing the introduction of that Charms essay, maybe it were James' lulling snores, either way, I was dead to the world only minutes after Peter had switched off the lights.  
  
I woke up to the sound of uproarious laughter. Staring blearily at my alarm clock, I discovered to my greatest dismay that it was 7 a.m. This was unacceptable! Being woken at bleeding seven o'clock on a bleeding Saturday morning. Someone would have to pay! I rolled out of bed, fully expecting to make contact with the cold stone floor. Instead, I landed on Remus, who was by now gasping for breath, tears of laughter in his eyes.  
  
"You know, this really isn't healthy for her. She could catch a cold." Peter wheezed out between snickers.  
  
What wasn't healthy for whom? What was he talking about? I scrambled up, accidentally kicked Remus, and almost lost my pyjama pants, which for some inexplicable reason set him off again.  
  
"Fuck the cold, my cat is bald!"  
  
What were they talking about? By now I really needed to know. I spied James' unruly mop of hair behind his bed. Peter was sitting cross-legged on his own bunk, an expression of badly disguised mirth on his face.  
  
"She'll still get cold."  
  
I walked around my bed and past James'.  
  
"Shall I knit her a jumper or what... now, don't you start, as well!"  
  
But I couldn't help it. I clutched at my stomach, shaking with laughter. Minx, James' cat, was *completely* furless. This was hilarious!  
  
After everyone had calmed down - which took a while, I mean, c'mon: the cat was bald! -, we wrapped Minx up in a blanket and took her to the Care of Magical Creatures Professor. She fixed her up right away, no charge, and we could return to our dorm to prepare for this evening's adventures. Benzen's early Christmas present, we called it. A gift that would amuse us a thousand times more than him. But not only our prank had me in such high spirits. While Remus' parents wanted to have their son at home, James, Peter and me had arranged for us to spend the holidays at Hogwarts, working on our Animagus project.  
  
But, alas, it turned out to be one of the lousiest Christmases I had ever had to experience in my life. Now, don't get me wrong the castle with its decorations had looked magnificent, the Christmas feast had been a dream, and the presents I had received were great fun and very tasty. James (with Peter's monetary aide) had bought me a collection of Swiss sweets and Remus had sent me a book with crosswords. He must have purchased it at Zonko's. There was no other possibility. I mean, I have seen many crossword puzzles, but these were absolutely fab. They were divided into three groups, Darn Easy, Bad Enough, and Nastily Difficult.  
  
The easy ones, they blinked when you wrote down something. Green, when it was correct and red, when it was wrong.  
  
The ones in the second group had more difficult questions. They blinked red, when your answer was correct and green, when it was wrong. And if that weren't enough they insulted you, too ('Got cheese for brains?').  
  
But the meanest of the lot were the crosswords in the last group. They blinked in *all* colours (from blue to pink to red to green to yellow, and so on) with no consistent pattern *and* they made wisecracks ('Are you *sure* this is what you want to write?') and insulted you non-stop ('pigheaded noodle!'), no matter if your answers were right or wrong. It had me in stitches.  
  
No, the things that made this Christmas so absolutely lousy were these: first, no James - his parents had decided to go on an impromptu skiing trip, taking him with them-, second, no Remus, third, only Peter, and fourth, no snow. Oh, and then, of course, there was the fact that our prank against Benzen had failed, before it had even started. We hadn't even got to his office's door! Just as we were sneaking around the corner, we saw a great brute of a Slytherin knock on the door and enter the room. Why couldn't the git have behaved normal, for once in his life, and spent a day in Hogsmeade like all of his fellow teachers?  
  
+++  
  
Answers to reviews:  
  
+ I give it all to Mr. Black: Like I said, no problem. Well, *grins*, as for Remus: still waters are deep.  
  
+ Elfmoon87: Thank you! And no, it's not scary, at least not for me. The way Sirius thinks resembles  
mine. So, can't fault you for that.  
  
+ kkroxyea: Thank you for putting me on your fav authors list and for liking this fic!  
  
+ unregistered person: Thank you!  
  
*rereads fic*, oh, no sorry, that comment about Snape not being human was just Peter bashing him.  
  
Oops, yes, you're right. *goes of to correct it*..... Thanks again!  
  
+ Inkling1: *glares in a mother-like fashion* how irresponsible of you! On the other hand, since your  
reading MY fic... you are forgiven! ;-)  
  
I'm glad it doesn't seem to get into the way, that's something I was worried about, especially in  
chapter 5 (with the Leap Day calculations. To tell the truth, when I first heard about it I found it  
intriguing, only I seemed to be one of the few in class back then).  
  
Nope, not incoherent. I could understand it. Although,.... that's not really saying much, considering  
what I'm writing.  
  
The toad: they WILL play that prank (and others), so much I can give away.  
  
The cat's whiskers: *hands a sugarquill to Inkling1* first reviewer of the story on ffnet. And because  
you were so nice and reviewed it you get your wish. I update as soon as I got the review notification  
email for your review.  
  
But, say, what happened? Why did you get on the bad side of an author, surely not because you  
reviewed?  
  
+ Abigail Nicole: Thank you!  
  
+ Padfoot Rocks: Thanks!  
  
+ Hrei-siesn: Oh, well, er, to tell the truth, poetry isn't really my forte. I've tried to correct it, though,  
and I hope it's okay now. Thanks for pointing it out.  
  
Okay, okay, I've written it, see? You and I Love Snuffles have finally convinced me to invest a  
whole afternoon. Now, go read it! :-)  
  
+ I Love Snuffles: Watch out for that... wall. Ouch, that must have hurt. You, alright?  
  
Thank you for all the compliments, you readers of the reviewing kind really make my day!  
  
Sorry, but you'll have to wait for that prank some more. It's a conspiracy, I think, between Sirius and  
my muse. The story progresses at a snail's pace. But at least you'll get the cookie, if you haven't  
discovered it yet. Bon appetit! *grins*  
  
+++  
  
AN: I apologise but updates will be slower from now on. I'm not going to set myself a schedule because I know I'm not going to make it, if I do, but if I write less that one chapter per month you've got permission to flame me right and good. Scream, yell, insult, tell me to sit down on my fat a** and get writing. You get the picture.  
  
+++  
  
When *I* look into the Mirror of Erised, I see thousands of S-W-E-I-V-E-R. Please, help me make this dream come true! 


	7. Chapter Seven: Counting Cobwebs

Brilliance  
  
By Viridian Magpie  
  
Disclaimer: I'm uncertain about my identity, thus trying to find myself by reflection and contemplation. However, I'm sure I'd know if I owned the rights to some of the best-selling books on earth. I don't.  
  
+++  
  
Chapter Seven: Counting Cobwebs  
  
Generally, I've got nothing against hugging, hell, I enjoy a good hug once in a while, but being squeezed to death on a Wednesday afternoon isn't really my cup of tea. Yes, I *had* helped Peter with his extra-credit assignment in Transfiguration, but we both knew that it wasn't totally for his benefit - even if he received an Outstanding. (Anything less and I would've killed McGonagall! Peter and I had worked hard on it during the hols. We had perused and excerpted from four books on Animagi and eventually had a four ft. essay on Animagi and a six ft. of parchment on how to become one; including common and not so common mistakes and other important titbits. McGonagall got the shorter one, of course).  
  
When we had been done with it - finally -, it was one day before school started again. I had planned on being lazy, sprawling in an armchair in front of the fire, eating Swiss chocolate, and letting my mind drift. Instead, I had spent it working frantically on my Charms, Herbology and Potions essays, which were due the following day. If I hadn't been off my rocker before this would have been the end of my sanity. I mean, you had to be barking mad to try the Animagus transformation at my age!  
  
After reading all those books - and, mind you, they were most probably edited, leaving out the nastier aspects of it - I finally understood why Remus had backed down so easily. If we were lucky we'd be finished by the time we did our OWLs. Provided, of course, that I was still alive and not strangled to death by an over-enthusiastic classmate.  
  
"It's - "(choke)" - alright, - "(gasp)" - Peter."  
  
I patted him on the back and then tried prying him loose from me, but he had a firm hold on my neck. James was doubled over laughing, so I turned my eyes imploringly upon Remus. The bastard only grinned in return!  
  
Ten very long minutes later Pipsqueak finally unhanded me and we could leave the second floor corridor and head to dinner. Just as we settled down at the Gryffindor table Benzen shuffled in. He couldn't move very fast since he had to take care not to tread on his overly long beard, courtesy of the Marauders. At lunch we had put a hair growth potion into his food. Until an antidote would be administered Benzen's hair would grow two inch per minute and it just so happened that the Potions mistress could not find the vial with the antidote and thus first had to brew it. It usually only took a good one and a half hours to make the potion. It took another five hours, however, for it to simmer, and another two to cool.  
  
This was the second prank we had played on Benzen since the end of the holidays. After Mission Early Christmas Present had failed we had decided to try again at the next Hogsmeade weekend. As this was still some time away, we had looked for other ways to avenge ourselves.  
  
The motto was 'constant dripping wears away the stone'. It was Remus' idea.  
  
We would do nothing big, just little things, little irritating things at random times. Water buckets over the doorframe, earmuffs that were glued together, screaming gardening tools, and so on. Just things that wouldn't get us expelled if we ever got caught (but we didn't get caught).  
  
In fact, our newly devised plan went off without a hitch. Each day Benzen got more irritable and twitchy.  
  
Till suddenly we stopped. Nothing, nada, nil, zero. But the git didn't know that we would leave him alone for the following three weeks. It was fun to watch him becoming more and more paranoid, checking the doorframe, his personal belongings everything for curses, finding nothing but living in fear that if he did stop looking he'd be attacked again.  
  
Two weeks after we had stopped and five days before the next Hogsmeade weekend he finally relaxed.  
  
Perfect timing.  
  
"And there he goes," Remus breathed into my ear. Indeed, Peeves finally left the suit of armour and cackled his way along the corridor. As he passed us, I fancied I could hear James' heartbeat to my left. It probably was mine.  
  
We waited another minute, just to be sure. It wouldn't do for us to be caught so close to success.  
  
"Revelo."  
  
The door to Benzen's office shimmered green for a moment. Could either be an automatic stunning curse or -  
  
"Cobweb Hex and a password triggered alarm." Remus really was an expert at that stuff, breaking curses and disabling wards.  
  
"No reward for guessing that password." I remarked. 'Alohomora' What else!  
  
He nodded distractedly.  
  
"Something's off, though. Step back." We did. He murmered a spell and jumped out of the way.  
  
A giant net covered the place he had occupied. Now about the alarm.  
  
How to get rid of it...  
  
James shook his head.  
  
"Bloody impossible."  
  
I agreed. The password triggered alarm required a password in order to not be triggered by 'Alohomora'.  
  
"Well, then we have to be fast about it," Remus spoke up again. I looked at him. Where was that angelic, shy and cautious boy I had first met after the Sorting Ceremony? We couldn't have corrupted him that quick and that thoroughly! Still, I could find no trace. It must have been an act.  
  
James checked his watch.  
  
"Let's give the git another ten minutes to make himself comfortable in Hogsmeade."  
  
The git had left Hogwarts half an hour ago. We had watched him marching towards the village from a window in Gryffindor tower, then slowly began making such a ruckus (Go Filibusters go!) that even Lily "I can't hear you" Evans had given up and had left the common room. Peter was still there, setting off a firework from time to time and playing a tape on Remus magically powered cassette player to ensure that everyone could attest to the fact that we hadn't left the common room, they had heard us talking clear enough.  
  
I sighed and took my place as a look out at the end of the corridor. Not that I expected anyone to come down here. It was a Hogsmeade weekend, the weather was fine outside, the dungeons were freezing. Better safe than sorry, though.  
  
One glance at that faithful little device on my left forearm told me something I had not expected. Only one minute had passed.  
  
Hrmph.  
  
I so hated waiting.  
  
But, well, it gave me time to philosophise some more.  
  
Another titbit of information, which I remembered from Astronomy classes, was, that time passes slower, the farther you are from the centre of earth. Of course, the closer you are to any big mass flying around in space, the faster time will pass. It's a matter of mere seconds per years, however.  
  
What really slows down time - in my humble opinion - is not a big mass; it's a big event, the kind you look forward to. That's why I so hated waiting and always would.  
  
I checked my watch again. Two minutes. I had contemplated the secrets of the universe and it had only taken me two bloody minutes. See, what I mean?  
  
James sauntered over and pressed his Cloak into my hands. I blinked.  
  
"Don't want it to get ripped or something."  
  
Yeah, there *was* that possibility of there being more hexes.  
  
He left again.  
  
If things are going too perfect they're bound to change for the worst pretty soon, my stomach informed me. I did not want to think about that at that point. Didn't wanna jinx it. I began counting cobwebs. Unfortunately, there were only two. One of them being that big one in front of Benzen's door.  
  
Then I counted the dead flies in the smaller web. There was one.  
  
The torches proved to be more numerous. Seven of them.  
  
Why was it that Remus and James did not have any problems with it? They didn't look bored at all. Or were just more adept at hiding it? I started counting my fingers - one might have disappeared, you never know.  
  
Eventually though, that excruciatingly long wait was over.  
  
"Alohomora."  
  
Each of us held his breath.  
  
Silence.  
  
They stormed into the office, anyway. 'No sound' did not equal 'no alarm'. Most likely, the git was hurrying back this very second, having been alerted by a vibrating sock or something similar.  
  
Maybe even vibrating boxer shorts.  
  
Phew, bad mental image.  
  
I had believed these ten minutes to be bad. Holding out until James and Remus came back out of his office was three times worse.  
  
Two of my fingernails mysteriously shrunk in the meantime. It looked as though someone had gnawed on them.  
  
"Okay, let's go!"  
  
We hid under the cloak and hurried back to the tower. On the way, we passed Benzen but he took no notice of us.   
  
+++  
  
AN: Too short a chapter and too long a wait, I know and I'm sorry. Only, I've discovered that I will have even less time than I had originally thought. Which means that you'll have to get used to the once a month schedule. (It might even take longer). Again, I'm sorry.  
  
+++  
  
Answers to reviews:  
  
+ Hrei-siesn: Thanks. Was it good?  
  
+ Eizoku: Yep, X-mas wasn't fun, but I don't think I give away too much if I tell you that Benzen won't be happy when he sees his office.  
  
+ Inkling 1: Would have liked to update sooner but unfortunately real life reared its ugly head. Nah, don't think that will happen. If anything you'd annoy me into feeling guilty. Which I already am. Without meaning to sound arrogant, I love the bald cat thing, too. It was so much fun writing it! Yeah, they should, I agree. *pouts* I only got one review for TCW (yours) on ffnet. No fair! *pouts some more* *shakes head* not gonna sue you. I love doing crosswords, as well, and quoting books or song texts or whatever. Often, though, people don't notice. To tell the truth, I put very much of myself into this fic. Most went to Sirius (crosswords, philosophising, a bit of a dirty mind, good memory for things nobody really needs to know) and Remus (reading, mythology, playing cards), a bit to Peter (quoting books). James seems to be the only one left out. Well, I do sometimes mislay my glasses, though....  
  
+ AbigailNicole: *blinks* *creases brows* ROFL! Hilarious. *laughs* OK... *looks at the moon and is set off again*... Now, seriously, .... what did I want to say? Hmm, never mind. Why green cheese, anyway? Why not yellow cheese? Or blue? What kind of cheese exactly? Where would it be from? Parmesan from Italy? Or maybe the cheese from Edam, Netherlands? Perhaps even Swiss cheese? With holes or without holes? With holes, I guess. Since the man would eat a few into it. At first, anyway, since wouldn't the cheese become mouldy after some time? It surely would start to smell then, as well. And the man on the moon would leave for he could not bear this stench! But where would he go? Yes, quite random but I liked it. Thank you. Bothering? No. Torturing? Yes. Nah, haven't named her, 'm considering it, though. Ophelia, eh? I named my granny's budgies Hamlet and Ophelia but my grandma never remembers. She calls Hamlet 'Max' and Ophelia whatever comes to her mind. Twenty-five cents a day?! Well, it would be worth consid- ouch! *clears throat* No, my muse is the most wonderful being on earth, I don't need another. *glances around herself but The Muse seems to have vanished again* That was close. Thank you for the compliments! *beams*  
  
+++  
  
The Muse would like to point out that she is extremely hungry. The best way to remedy this situation is to give her what constitutes as food in her world. Namely reviews. 


	8. Chapter Eight: A Choleric Maniac

Brilliance  
  
By Virdian Magpie  
  
Chapter Summary: This time, he spluttered frothing at the mouth, this time the boys wouldn't get away. That had been illegal, that curse had been.  
  
Disclaimer: *writing with Umbridge Quill* They are - ouch - not mine - ouch - but JK - ouch - Rowling's.  
  
Chapter Eight: A choleric maniac  
  
You'd think that, with the two houses being rivals and such, Slytherin's Head of House wouldn't know the password for Gryffindor Tower. I did and I was wrong.  
  
About twenty minutes after Mission: Belated Christmas Present had successfully been accomplished, Elmar - The Git - Benzen loomed threateningly over a group of second years, who had until then been peacefully playing Exploding Snap - or as peacefully as you can play a game with detonating cards, anyway.  
  
These four boys now were staring wide-eyed at the raving lunatic before them since they *honestly* did not know just what he was ranting about. For, as one boy - let's call him James - pointed out, they had not left the common room in over two hours. How could they know what had happened to the Professor's office?  
  
And anyhow, a second boy - let's call him Sirius - put in, they did not even know where his Professorship's office was!  
  
But the madman did not listen. He was beside himself.  
  
This time, he spluttered frothing at the mouth, this time the boys wouldn't get away. That had been illegal, that curse had been, he continued even as the Head of Gryffindor dragged him away to calm him down. As the portrait hole shut the boys raised their eyebrows simultaneously. Illegal?  
  
We decided to leave the git alone for a while then, better safe than sorry.  
  
An investigation, which followed, led nowhere. Half of Gryffindor tower attested to the fact that they had clearly heard us. As did the Fat Lady, who admitted, though, to having left shortly after Lily Evans since that racket had given her a migraine. Her friend Violett had checked back ten minutes later, however, and had fled immediately again, courtesy of some fireworks which had been set off.  
  
We secretly congratulated ourselves. A watertight alibi.  
  
"Fortune favours the Gryffindors, eh?" I grinned and popped a Bertie Bott into my mouth.  
  
"All thanks to my pair of lucky socks!"  
  
"Your lucky what, Peter?" James' head shot up from behind a magazine (MediMag).  
  
"Socks," he repeated slowly as if we were stupid. "You know the things you wear on your feet?"  
  
"Oh, you mean shoes!" Remus smirked.  
  
"No, I mean socks. I've been wearing them for each and every mission!" Pipsqueak proclaimed proudly.  
  
James sniffed.  
  
I tried to remember how many pranks we had played and how many of them on consecutive days. My lupine friend was apparently thinking along the same lines.  
  
"Ah," he commented dryly, "so that's where that smell comes from. I had wondered."  
  
"I *have* washed them!" Pipsqueak spluttered, turning beet-red.  
  
"Before every mission?" James raised both eyebrows.  
  
"Of course!"  
  
I shrugged and made a dismissive gesture. "If you say so." And turned back to my Every Flavour Beans.  
  
"But I did!"  
  
"Mhmm." Remus grabbed his quill again and continued to scribble away on his Charms essay.  
  
James was once again deeply immersed in his mag.  
  
"I di-id." He was whinging now. Still...  
  
... no further reactions.  
  
"Fine."  
  
He grumbled something unintelligible, probably in French, and burrowed himself in Sherlock Holmes for the 23rd time since I had given it to him. He'd known it by heart since November. I wasn't sure why he bothered reading it again. Or if he even read it at all, 'cause sometimes he just sat, staring at the pages and his eyes weren't moving in the slightest.  
  
I soon got bored again. James and Peter were reading and Remus was doing his homework, and while eating was indeed one of my hobbies, it was a bit lackluster.  
  
But what could I do? We had decided to curb down on pranking for a bit, the others were amusing themselves and I was really in no mood to start on my History of Magic essay. I got up from bed and left the dorm and even the tower. I had no idea where I was going and just let my feet carry me towards some unknown destination. Incidentally, I crossed the path of our dear caretaker, who was carrying buckets through the Entrance Hall, and took a peek.  
  
The sight that greeted me left no doubts as to Benzen's temper and intelligence. The buckets were filled with the corpses of - can you guess? - yes, Esmeralda lookalikes. This had two meanings: (1) that Benzen had a terrible temper (though I already knew that) and (2) that he obviously had never heard of the Multimitation Charm (or didn't know that it would only last another 20 hours or so). I absolutely had to share this with the guys. But first I'd find out where Filch deposited the dead toads.  
  
I followed him stealthily - or as stealthily as possible. It was no problem as long as we remained inside the castle, i. e. during the *incredibly long* journey through the *Entrance* Hall. But then he went outside. It was February. The air was cold and I had no cloak with me. I remained inside the building and watched him from the door for as long as possible. When he shuffled around the corner I resigned myself to freezing my nose off and left the warmth.  
  
Considering how long I was on the grounds, it was a miracle that I didn't get pneumonia. And considering how little I uncovered, the risk was certainly not worth it. Most of the time I spent hiding behind a bush, my trousers getting soaked from the slush and my hair becoming damp from the snow that had decided it wanted to fall when I was freezing already.  
  
Finally, though, Filch left and I was able to investigate the bodies. I immediately changed my opinion on Benzen. The man wasn't simply hot- tempered. He was a choleric maniac! I couldn't even begin to describe what he had done to the animals. There was not one intact body. Something else occurred to me then. There was no way Esmeralda could have escaped his wrath.  
  
I trudged back toward the dorm and sat down heavily on my bed. Yes, I had wanted to exact revenge on Benzen but I'd never have thought, I mean, he didn't like animals of any kind, I knew, but - this had just been plain cruel.  
  
I can't remember how long I sprawled there staring into space. At one point, James looked up and asked what was wrong. I recounted what I had uncovered and what conclusions I had drawn. The silence that ensued lay heavily in the air. Eventually Remus rose.  
  
"You know what this means, don't you?" He didn't wait for an answer. "He hasn't paid nearly enough, yet."  
  
Peter and James nodded and I sneezed my consent. They stared at me. Potter Junior came over and felt my forehead and stated that while I did not have a fever yet, I should go to Pomfrey, anyway. Just to be sure. I groaned.  
  
"And if she keeps me there?"  
  
"Better you alone than all of us," came the utilitarian (and cold-hearted) reply.  
  
Against my earlier worries, though, the nurse didn't request that I stay in the infirmary. Still she did force me to drink that awful Pepperup Potion. James rather liked it (well, of course, *he* would) and Peter thought it was kind of funny - all that smoke and stuff-, but I just couldn't get used to it. Remus sympathised with me but that probably was because he had a general aversion towards medicine. He said it was because he had had to take so much of it already that he couldn't stand the sight of it anymore. Kinda understandable, I guess, if you took into account that his parents had tried almost everything to help him. Nothing ever had worked. This would change, however. We would make sure of it; but before that we had to take care of something else.  
  
+++  
  
AN: Got a blog now at www.xanga.com/viridian_magpie!  
  
+++  
  
Answers to reviews:  
  
+ Eizoku: Thank you very much for the compliments. I greatly appreciate them.  
  
+ Hrei-Siesn: Thanks for waiting. Yeah, I love driving people insane. *grins* Anyway, this won't last for much longer, since the plot picks up speed dramatically next chapter. 


	9. Chapter Nine: Nothing To Fear

Brilliance  
  
By Viridian Magpie  
  
Disclaimer: Me owns nothing but the plot.  
  
Disclaimer 2: "Anyhooties" belongs to I Love Snuffles' younger brother. Thanks to the former for letting me use it!  
  
####  
  
Chapter Nine: Nothing to fear  
  
"Hush."  
  
I started to roll my eyes at Peter but then recalled that he couldn't see me, anyhow. Hrmph, the only one making any noise was *him*, not *me*, and not *James*.  
  
We hurried on across the grounds and towards Greenhouse Four, where we would set our plan in motion. Why there, one might ask. Simple, we'd answer. It was a question of priority. Did we want to see the results of this prank and appear guilty right away, thus running danger of ultimately getting caught? Or would we rather have described it to us by the fourth year Gryffindors, who'd be there since they had Herbology in Greenhouse Four the following morning; which would make us a little less suspicious? Self-preservation won out. We weren't suicidal. Even one month after the 'toad incident' Benzen was still furious as hell and every time he saw us his face turned as red as Fawkes' plumage.  
  
Esmeralda, as we had guessed, was dead. Nobody had seen her since Valentine's Day. Rumours as to what had happened to her abounded. First and second years mostly believed she had escaped, fled home to her family - we didn't correct them. Third years and above thought that either she had died of old age (though these were a minority), or had not survived another demonstration (which nobody had witnessed, so it was considered unlikely) or that Benzen had killed her in a fit of rage (which was true, not that we would have told anyone so - after all, we hadn't been involved in anything that could have irked the git so much).  
  
But anyhooties (you know, I like that word; or better, I like the effect it has on my sister each time I say it. She'd be embarrassment incarnated. Girls! I'm just glad I was born a boy. Though, admittedly, the world would be dull without them; and I just love baiting Nelle! - Insert maniacal laughter here - but back to my narration).  
  
Anyhooties (hehe), it was Remus' turn to stay behind this time. (We did not always leave somebody behind, only if we needed an alibi or - as was the case then - if we went out after curfew and required someone to open the portrait hole for us.) Naturally, Remus wasn't particularly happy that he couldn't come, but fair was fair (each of us had to stay behind now and then) and, anyway, it wasn't like this would be the last time we'd prank the Git now, was it?  
  
Or maybe it was.  
  
We had by now reached Greenhouse Four, which stood innocently among its counterparts - with the exception that its door was ajar.  
  
This was really something to be suspicious about.  
  
For one thing, Benzen was too paranoid to simply leave a door open. We had expected at least *one* minor obstacle, like a locked door for instance.  
  
Secondly, there were plants in there and they needed warm surroundings. The cold wind blowing around us on that night was certainly quite unhealthy for them. Benzen, who loved his shrubs and greenery and whatnot would never endanger his "dears" like that. There was something fishy going on!  
  
"And now?" Pipsqueak breathed in my ear.  
  
I shrugged.  
  
"We go in, I suppose."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Nobody moved. Behind me James huffed and pushed past us. He stepped out from under the Cloak and into the Greenhouse. After a moments hesitation we followed; and bumped into James.  
  
"What is it?" I asked while taking the Cloak off of me and Peter. I folded it neatly and tucked it beneath my robes. James neither moved nor made a sound, so I shoved him out of the way. I stopped dead. Behind me Peter whimpered.  
  
"Get Pomfrey!" I bit out.  
  
"I think it's too late for that," James whispered. He was right, of course, but...  
  
"I don't give a damn! Peter, go get somebody, anybody!"  
  
I averted my gaze from the body and glared at him.  
  
"Now!"  
  
He set off at high speed. I turned back to James, who was staring transfixed at the corpse.  
  
"James.  
  
"James!"  
  
I slapped him.  
  
"He's dead, Sirius."  
  
"I know." I almost choked on these two words. I could not think of that, I would not allow myself to think of that. By Gryffindor, I had hated the Git but he hadn't deserved this!  
  
'Breathe, stay calm. Think of a blank wall.' My mantra, I repeated it about twenty times until, suddenly, a certain calm settled over me. It did not come gradually, no, it arrived instantly like light turned on by means of a switch. My mind cleared at once but, really, I had no control over my movements or thoughts. Life happened but I wasn't participating; and still, in a way I was.  
  
I leant over the corpse and looked at him closely (I knew better than to touch him). James joined me but I took no real notice.  
  
Benzen's eyes were wide open, he must have seen his attacker coming. "But why hasn't he drawn his wand?" I wondered aloud.  
  
"He has," James answered. "It's just that the attacker was faster. They must have cast Expelliarmus," here he stood up and gestured wildly. "Benzen flew backwards - that's why there's blood here," he pointed towards a dark black spot to our left.  
  
Ah.  
  
"He tried to reach the shovel to his right," I continued my friend's line of thought, "to defend himself! That's when the attacker finished him off with Avada Kedavra."  
  
James nodded. Considering that there was no sign of any injuries - aside from the little pool of blood - it had to have been the Killing Curse.  
  
Well, this explained the 'How'.  
  
"But *who* did it?"  
  
"This, I think, is for the Aurors to determine."  
  
We turned around abruptly and beheld the Headmaster. It seemed he had stood there for quite a while. How much time had passed?  
  
"They will be here anon. I trust you have not touched anything?"  
  
I shook my head mutely and he nodded as if he hadn't thought we would have. I took a tiny bit of pride in this confidence.  
  
Suddenly a dark shape entered the greenhouse, puffing heavily.  
  
"Ah, Hagrid." Dumbledore greeted without turning. Hagrid, for this dark shape was indeed him, looked incredulous.  
  
"'Ow'd ya-?" He started to ask but stopped; either because he figured out that no one really could mistake him, or because he, like everyone who had met our esteemed Headmaster, had come to the conclusion that the man could not be understood, or...  
  
"Galloping Gargoyles, that's Professor Benzen!" Stating the obvious but I did not have the right to mock him for it. It was a shocking sight.  
  
"Yes, these are his remains."  
  
How could Dumbledore be so calm about it? Or maybe, like I, he functioned on auto pilot in times of great stress?  
  
"Hagrid, if you would, please, stand guard outside the greenhouse? Do not let anyone in."  
  
The Gamekeeper nodded vehemently.  
  
"Yessir."  
  
"Come along then, gentlemen."  
  
The trek back to the castle took longer than expected. Questions were burning in the back of my mind but I dared not ask. Why? I do not know. I was confused. The calm, which I had felt before, had left and my thoughts were swirling like bees around a hive. I did not become aware of where we were headed until the Headmaster murmured the password into the direction of the stone gargoyle that watched over the entrance to his office.  
  
Inside we were met by a frenzied Peter and a stoic McGonogall.  
  
"Take a seat." Dumbledore ordered just as Madame Pomfrey burst in. This was unacceptable, she grumbled, she should have been informed earlier! The children needed to be examined; very likely, they were in shock!  
  
Spoke and immediately commenced; performed a spell here, checked a pulse there; felt foreheads, looked at pupils, concluded that it was only a mild shock, ordered rest and quiet and tea, anyway; gave each of us a piece of chocolate, protested loudly, and eventually (after much persuasion on the Headmaster's part) departed.  
  
Surely, I thought, we'd be allowed to leave as well now? But Dumbledore made no indication, offered us each a cuppa instead.  
  
And so we drank tea and ate biscuits, made small talk and waited.  
  
A long time later - twenty minutes if James' watch was telling the truth - there was a knock on the door: the Aurors, a squad of four.  
  
Where the corpse was  
  
- on the grounds.  
  
(Two were sent away).  
  
Who had found him  
  
- these young gentlemen.  
  
(Two pairs of eyebrows were raised).  
  
The kids?  
  
- yes.  
  
(Scrutinising eyes lingered upon us).  
  
They need be questioned immediately with the impression still fresh in their minds and unmarred by outside influence.  
  
- indeed.  
  
A nod and our fate concerning the following hours had been sealed.  
  
It's something I absolutely loathe: decisions made above my head. I must have control over the situations I find myself in or, at least, be responsible for them myself; but the happenings of that night had been out of my hand.  
  
One of the Aurors - the leader, I think, for he was the older one and looked the most experience judging by the scars that criss-crossed his face (that or he was one hell of an unlucky fellow) - insisted that we'd be questioned separately and in a secluded room.  
  
We glanced at each other uncertainly. Before leaving the Gryffindor Tower we had decided on what to say in case we'd get caught, but at this point we had thought that we'd be questioned by a teacher, not an Auror.  
  
Dumbledore (the man can read minds, I swear) took the decision out of our hands, again.  
  
"I expect you to provide full co-operation, gentlemen. If you please?"  
  
The Auror took his cue and James was led away to Merlin only knew where. McGonogall accompanied them and I took comfort in this since it in all probability meant that, while she would not be there for the actual interrogation, my Head of House would be close by.  
  
I shook my head. We were not under suspicion. There was no need for fear!  
  
Another cup was provided for the second Auror, who declined. He stood stiffly near the door and even refused to "take a pew", when asked to by Dumbledore.  
  
The sparkle was back in his eyes.  
  
We waited some more. Peter began to chew his fingernails and I only just resisted the urge to tap my foot.  
  
My leg was twitching, though.  
  
What could be taking so long? It wasn't as though there was so much to tell. I shifted in my seat. Somehow, I had the strange feeling that I was being watched. I leant forward in my chair to refill my cup - it was almost empty, anyhow - and spied the reflection of the Auror in the kettle. He was staring at me. I leant back and tried to sink deeper into the chair. The guy freaked me out. I prayed that James would hurry up.  
  
Still it took another quarter of an hour for McGonagall to return and naturally, she beckoned towards Peter. I suppressed a groan. It figured. Pipsqueak was fast fortunately a bit faster, yet, it was way past midnight when eventually it was my turn.  
  
As luck would have it, and I cursed it for this treachery, the second Auror came along this time. I wasn't nervous, though. No, I was quivering with fear and had to repeat it to myself that the only thing I had to be afraid of was getting a detention for being out after curfew and for planning to play a prank on the most hated teacher in the school. This feeling is irrational, I told myself, I have nothing to fear for Merlin's sake!  
  
No - thing - to - fear!  
  
####  
  
Answers to review(s):  
  
+ Hrei-Siesn: Thank you for being the only one who reviewed. Your my hero!  
  
#### 


	10. Chapter Ten: Lion's Courage

Brilliance  
  
By Virdian Magpie  
  
Chapter Summary: "It's so stupid. I mean, there's a big difference between pranking and killing someone, isn't there?"  
  
Disclaimer: Huh? Me? Own Harry Potter? You gotta be kidding me!  
  
Chapter Ten: Lion's Courage  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
We stopped before an old Potions classroom which was only ever used once a week for voluntary Potions tutoring. Remus went there each Thursday evening.  
  
The Auror opened the door and stared at me pointedly. I looked at McGonogall. She had not uttered a single word the whole time and didn't seem inclined to do so now; but her curt smile reassured me and heartened by this I decided to face my fate head on like a true Gryffindor.  
  
I really had had nothing to fear. The interrogation went smoothly and while the second Auror continued to eye me disapprovingly and Moody - unlike the other the badly scarred one had told me his name - was a bit grumpy, the latter's professional (if unconventional) attitude soon put my mind at ease. With a small smirk he assured me that there was no reason to look so pale. I was not under arrest and would not be except I had a skeleton in my trunk (I quickly negated this and he said he hadn't thought so) and that my head of House had decided not to pursue our volition of the school rules aside from subtracting 20 points each.  
  
This was rather mild considering it was old McGonogall we were talking about.  
  
All in all, I was feeling fine. The questions were numerous but not mean. Moody wanted to know a lot of details. I answered each query truthfully (with the exception that I never once mentioned James' Cloak, which was still tucked away underneath my robes; it wasn't a vitally important fact, after all).  
  
At about half past two then, I was free to go. Escorted by my Head of House I arrived in my dormitory, where James, Peter and Remus pretended to be asleep. I saw right through it (the lack of snoring was a dead give-away) and I think McGonogall did as well, but she didn't say anything and left quickly and quietly.  
  
Her footsteps were still echoing through the silence of the Tower when my three companions came to life.  
  
"You alright," Remus queried. My friend looked at me expectantly.  
  
"Uh-huh," I replied.  
  
"Good." Remus at once turned around to face James.  
  
"Alright, what happened then?"  
  
I gaped. That was all he had to say? Good? Okay, I could understand that Remus was curious. He probably didn't mean it and it was late at night and we were all tired. I shook my head. It was time I went to bed.  
  
"Well," James spoke up in reply to Remus' question, "We were just sitting down when Pomfrey charged in..."  
  
I tuned the rest of the narration out (I had been there, after all) and got ready to sleep.  
  
There are some days when - almost immediately after you rise - you get the inexplicable feeling that you should better lie down once more. Unfortunately a sleep deprived mind tends not to become aware of bad omens or - if it does - will attribute it to the lack of sleep. After trying to comb my hair with James' teeth brush, running smack into the door frame of the bathroom, and stumbling over my backpack, it should have registered that this was not a good day. The feeling even nagged at me but - stubborn as I am - I ignored it.  
  
"Did you hear-"  
  
"Yes, I'm sure."  
  
"They've always-"  
  
"Who else?"  
  
"- prank gone too -"  
  
"- hated -"  
  
I felt like screaming. I'd've done it, too, if it hadn't been for the fact that this would only have fuelled the rumours, so I just clenched my hands and kept my mouth shut.  
  
I had done so since noon and by unspoken agreement the other had, as well. We would not acknowledge the whispers. Nor the stares. Absolutely not. We refused.  
  
"First the toad-"  
  
This was going too far. I suddenly didn't feel really hungry anymore. My fork clattered to the table and I quickly excused myself before I ate my words and jumped down that guy's throat. James nodded in reply but didn't say anything. Peter simply continued eating like nothing was bothering him. Wished I could do that.  
  
As I exited the Great Hall Remus caught up. We walked in silence. Even though I was tense the quiet wasn't. In a way it was even soothing. I dared to take a quick peek. Remus' expression was neutral but I didn't think that he was as aloof about this as he might have wanted us to believe.  
  
He wasn't above suspicion, either. Guilty by association or whatever. It worried me. If the scrutiny we were subjected to by almost all of Hogwarts continued, there was a chance someone might find out about 'it'.  
  
"Fortitudo Leonis."  
  
The current password to the tower was a joke. It was way too easy too figure out for everyone with a Latin dictionary. 'Lion's courage'. I wondered what The Fat Lady had been thinking. Maybe she had run out of ideas? A thousand years of making up passwords might result in that. But why didn't she simply use old ones again? It wasn't like anyone would know the password from April 1534 or something (well, maybe except the ghosts). And even if there was someone, the chance of them guessing correctly before somebody noticed them were slim. Slimmer than guessing the current password.  
  
"Dinner already over, dears?"  
  
"Fortitudo Leonis," I repeated. I wasn't in the mood for idle chit-chat.  
  
"If you wish." Affronted, she swung aside. I couldn't care less.  
  
The Common Room was empty. We didn't linger though for it would not remain so for long. We arrived in our dorm and Remus closed the door. Not a single word had been exchanged as of yet.  
  
I was still tense and by now the silence had changed. It seemed oppressive and unbearable. I needed to say something. Shout, rage, scream, anything. I wanted to make it clear that I would not suffer this treatment by our classmates much longer.  
  
My back was turned to Remus and I glared out of the window. I felt like a volcano, ready to erupt.  
  
I swirled around, the words, the diatribe, already forming in my mouth, when I saw his expression. 'I know,' his eyes said and I deflated.  
  
"It's so stupid," I whispered. He nodded.  
  
"I mean, there's a big difference between pranking and killing someone, isn't there?" It was a rhetoric question but he answered, anyhow. To reassure me, I guess.  
  
"There is. It's just Hogwart's rumour mill. In a few weeks nobody will remember it, you'll see. They'll be gossiping Johnson ditching his fifth girlfriend this year and wondering who'll win the Quidditch Cup and all that stuff."  
  
He was trying to reassure himself, too. Still, I appreciated his effort.  
  
"The fifth? You're actually keeping track of that," I asked amused. Everyone - including Johnson, I guess - knew that there was a betting pool pertaining to the amount of girlfriend's he go through each year - and who'd they be. James and Peter participated but Remus and I didn't. Each of us for his own reasons.  
  
"Nah, but Peter keeps me updated." And I bet all my Chocolate Frog cards that he did so without being asked. I shook my head and snorted. That was Pipsqueak through and through.  
  
I slumped down on the floor and leaned against Remus' bed. The owner of said bed joined me right after.  
  
"Do you know what subjects you gonna take next year?" If the change in topics was abrupt, Remus didn't comment.  
  
"Uh-uh, but Care of Magical Creatures sounds fun. You want to take Muggle Studies, don't you?"  
  
I nodded. "Mhm. I was just thinking that I might want to consider Divination."  
  
"Oh. How come?" Remus' brows were furrowed in confusion.  
  
"I - yesterday, when we were in Dumbledore's office, I had the feeling as if I was a suspect. And look, it turned out to be true." I laughed humourlessly.  
  
Indeed, it had. We weren't persecuted by the Magical Law Enforcement, however, but by our fellow pupils.  
  
"They'll soon forget," Remus repeated his earlier statement.  
  
"What if they don't," I queried. "What if the Aurors believe that crap? One of them, the younger one, was constantly staring at me, yesterday. Like, like he was trying to see if I had something to hide." I shuddered. I did have a few things to hide but nothing really that could send you to Azkaban. But what if they really-  
  
"There's only one thing to do." Remus cut into my string of thoughts. I looked at him in askance.  
  
His face showed determination.  
  
"We find the killer ourselves." .  
  
.  
  
.  
  
AN: I'm really sorry for the long wait and the shortness of the chapter. I won't bother you with lame excuses. Just, please, accept my sincerest apologies for this wait --- and the next one. I don't know when I'll be able to update again. Between the stress of studying for the finals (I'll be graduating this year) and the severe case of classical Writer's Block (I swear, everything I write a primary school kid could have done better), a fast update seems pretty unlikely. Again, I'm sorry. .  
  
.  
  
Answers to reviews:  
  
+ Barbara Kennedy: Thank you.  
  
+ Hrei-siesn: I think this chapter pretty much answered your question. Yeah, would have been a bit  
unrealistic, wouldn't it. On the other hand, in the real HP books a lot of ppl seem to believe that  
Harry might be capable of doing some things, so... anyway. I think I never asked - if I did, please  
forgive my bad memory - but what does your pen name mean? It looks interesting. 


	11. Chapter Eleven: Whodunnit

Brilliance

By Viridian Magpie

Chapter Summary: how could a grieving, angry and upset 21-year-old boy come and leave Hogwarts' ground undetected AND kill a professor in cold blood in-between?

Disclaimer: What? You don't believe that I own Harry Potter?

AN: I have no justifications for this delay, just an excuse: real life. Or in other words, 2004 meant for me: last year at school, final exams, practical training, university, driver's licence. I have to learn another foreign language (hey, I'm tetralingual now, four freaking languages, urk, never mind about the fifth one that's also obligatory for the courses I'm taking and I haven't even started on it yet). Add to that the fact that since I don't have enough money to move, I'm on the road almost four hours/day, four days a week… and holidays begin in mid-February (I'm not U.S., so the dates are different) _sighs_ I'll try to update more frequently but I can't promise anything. Sorry.

Talking about the fifth language, I have the choice between French, Italian or Spanish. Got any advice?

* * *

Chapter Eleven: Whodunit 

There are things that are easier done than said. For instance, a comforting pat on the back is preferable to a litany of stuttered words of condolence. (The latter always provides a chance to put your foot in your mouth and we all know just how adept I am at _that_).

Then there are things that are easier said than done. Finding a dangerous murderer being one of them. As soon as we had called a meeting of HUMM and James and Peter had accepted our proposal, we realised that there were a whole lot of things you had to consider.

Firstly, just where exactly do you start?

Secondly, how will you remain inconspicuous when _you_ are a prime suspect?

Thirdly, how do you convince Pipsqueak that he's being unreasonable?

"Oh for the love of Gryffindor! We can't go sniffing about the crime scene! As soon as someone sees us, we-"

"Then we'll make sure that nobody does!"

I really considered banging my head against the bed post. The same boy that knew A. C. Doyle's most famous book by heart insisted on doing the one thing that would convince even the most trusting and naive people of our supposed guilt.

I heard a deep sigh, coming from my left.

"We'll just vote then," Remus interjected.

He looked like he would like nothing better just to simply put a pillow over his head and ignore Pete's mule-headed stupidity.

"All in favour of investigating the crime scene, raise your hands."

Peter did.

"And against..." I raised my hand and so did Remus. James simply shrugged.

"Don't care either way."

"Then this is taken care of." I nodded, satisfied, but Pipsqueak grumbled silently.

"So what _do_ we do," Jamy-boy wanted to know.

What indeed?

"Why don't we write down what we know," Remus, ever the practical one, suggested. We did so and soon discovered one thing: we knew shit.

For a while we stared at the parchment lined with Remus' precise handwriting.

- Benzen, Elmar (c. 70)

- Herbology Professor

- Extremely ugly

- Not well liked

- Died in Greenhouse Four, yesterday evening

- Killed by AK after a short scuffle

Peter glanced at James, James at me and I at Remus. He simply returned my gaze. Again we shifted our attention towards the piece of parchment. It really wasn't much.

"Well," James said, "er, we could list what we have to find out."

This proposition was met with blank expressions.

"Hmm."

"Uh."

"Ungh."

James' face fell. He looked as if someone had shorn his cat. I took pity and put on a reassuring grin.

"I guess it beats staring at that ruddy paper," I conceded.

This second list was longer (though not by much which was a good thing - less to find out!). It began with the obvious:

- Who killed him?

And went from there to:

- Did they have helpers?

- Was it someone from Hogwarts? Not?

- Who had a reason? (Motives!)

- How did they get away undetected?

- Who does not have an alibi?

- Whom can we exclude?-> 1st and 2nd years and probably 3rd years, as well. (The Killing Curse was just too advanced).

After another short but heated discussion, we came to the conclusion that we'd best be starting by discreetly gathering more information on Benzen (Was he actually married? Did he have kids? - a horrifying thought, that one - Was he rich? And so on...) and thus trying to determine who might have more reason to kill him than just about anybody else who had ever met the man. If possible we would also try to discover who did not have an alibi - just as discreetly, of course.

And naturally we would keep our eyes open for any other hints, like "Is somebody behaving nervously or jumpy? Do they look guilty? Or smug?" and things like that.

I must admit, I did not think it would be quite as much work as it turned out to be. Oh sure, some parts were easy. The _Daily Prophet_ regaled us with background information on Benzen, once they'd got wind of his murder. The man was 71, he _had_ had a wife (49) - though, it was a broken marriage -, he had a daughter, Elizabeth (25), and a son, Edward (21). The most important part being aforementioned _had_. Lydia Benzen had committed suicide only three days before his murder. The Aurors wouldn't give any statements but if the _Prophet_ was to be believed it was Benzen's own son who killed him. Allegedly Mrs Benzen killed herself because she couldn't stand living with the tyrant anymore and Edward, blinded by grief for his beloved mother, had sought his father out and murdered him.

The story seemed sound enough but something didn't quite ring true: how could a grieving, angry and upset 21-year-old boy come and leave Hogwarts' ground undetected AND kill a professor in cold blood in-between?

Five days after the murder Edward Benzen was arrested and pretty much everybody at the school pretended they had not ever whispered a single accusation against us.

We should have been happy except that we did not think they had caught the right guy.

And it made us uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. Who would want to live in a world where innocent people were sent to prison?

Rhetorical question, that one.

Anyway, Edward Benzen's trial was set for July 1st. This, of course, meant that we had to find enough evidence of his innocence (I can rhyme! All hail Sirius Black, poet extraordinaire!) _before_.

You know, how in stories the hero always just arrives on time to hear an important bit of information that will allow him to rescue the maiden/solve the case/do any other heroic deed? Of course, you do.

Well, unfortunately real life isn't like that. The day of Edward Benzen's trial - and the finals - kept creeping closer and closer and we still had not found one single hint! Though, not for lack of trying. We had learned a good deal of other things, however. For instance, we discovered that there were more inter-House couples than anyone would have assumed and that most of them met in the patch of forest behind the Groundkeeper's garden when he was out doing what Groundkeepers do.

For another, we soon determined that not even the Slytherins had liked Benzen and that they were very glad he was gone.

Which made them the most likely suspects.

Everyone knows that the Snakes are into the Dark Arts, after all - it's a fact of life-, and Benzen was killed by an _Unforgivable_. Ergo, it had to be a Slytherin (or a Ravenclaw - they study _everything_ - but most likely a Slytherin).

And lastly, we found out something else: we hated Snape with a passion and for a good reason - many of those. Though actually, we already knew that. The prick was vicious, vengeful, had no sense of humour but in its stead a very mean, nasty, cruel and horrible streak. And to top it all he was a whiz at Potions.

I hate him, I hate him, I HATE HIM! Forever!

I've hated him since the first time I ever smelled him and will do so until I take my last breath.

Besides being mean, he was ugly, too.

Anyhow, the worst part - besides the obvious, of course - the worst part, however, was that, instead of showing compassion (as he should, I mean we do as well for him and _his_ problem), someone was laughing his head off at our predicament. It wasn't even a silent chuckle, it was a roaring cacophony of raucous laughter including the full monty of gasping for breath and crying till tears were streaming down his cheeks like the waters of the Niagara Falls. All of this directed at his best friends!

Pipsqueak's girlish giggle interspersed with very unlady-like snorts (but the Peter was MALE - the bastard!), anyway, THEY were bearable compared.

As I glared into the mirror in our bathroom - trying to ignore those prats - James (or what had once been James) smiled at me in commiseration. Actually, it looked more like a grimace but it was the thought that counted.

Or maybe he really _was_ grimacing. I, myself, didn't look to happy either.

"On the plus side," he began.

Wait a moment! I snapped my head around to stare at him. There was a plus side? Well, um, actually, yeah. I mean, there were _always_ two sides to a coin. Exactly. I just had to think positive. There was bound to be something we could gain from it . . . now, I couldn't imagine what it would be but, hey, that's what James was for, wasn't it?

Speaking of him, he still hadn't continued.

"On the plus side," I repeated, urging him to go on.

"Er."

. . .that didn't sound promising.

"Yes?"

"Um."

Expectant silence on my part.

"Actually," James muttered a bit sheepishly, "at the moment I can't think of anything positive."

Uh.

Suddenly Remus howled and fell over, banging his fists against the floor. "Y-you should have – seen your f-face," he gasped.

Unfortunately – what with the fact that I was standing in front of a mirror – I had. Dumbstruck did not even begin to describe it. Actually, it kind of reminded me of the postcard I used as a bookmark. You know, there's some shops that sell this kind, the ones with the funny motives or quotes and stuff. Like the one that's totally pitch-black, except for the white writing, which reads, e.g. "London – at night".

Or "There's no beer like Shakespeare."

Anyhow, the one I finally settled on purchasing (after reading every single one in that particular shop) read "Ever have one of those days?" and showed a little doggie which was about to pee on a hydrant. Emphasis on "about to" because what actually happened was that the hydrant peed on the doggie. The lil' thing looked quite, well, like I had looked just at the moment Remus was referring to.

So back to the point where our local werewolf made his observation, back to the dorm. . . the dorm. Ah! An idea slowly formed. Hehehe, I was bad. So bad. A bad boy. Oh yeah!

"There _is_ a plus side to this," I finally stated, fight the urge to do a little victory dance. That smug grin on my face was threatening to split my head.

"And that would be," James inquired, looking hopeful.

"Well," I began, "the git pranked us."

"Yes."

"And brewed up a potion."

"Yes."

"Which turned us into girls." (Remus howled some more).

"I _am_ aware of _that_," Jamsie snapped.

I chuckled inwardly, keeping someone in suspense is so much fun! Muahaha!

"Weeelllll-"

"Get – to – the – point." (Another howl).

"That means-"

A quick glance at Jamsie-boy's face told me he was quite at the end of his line. A quick glance at Remus', on the other hand, told me that if I kept this up he might just die of asphyxiation. Good.

I beckoned James closer and whispered in his ear.

"You know, this means we can go places, we couldn't go before. . . like the girls' dorm." I waggled my eyebrows suggestively.

An evil grin was spreading over James' face and I could practically _hear_ his mind working on all the wonderful, delicious opportunities this presented: Revenge on Evans, stolen knickers, messed up make-up. The possibilities were endless. _This_ was gonna be good!


End file.
